


A House Divided - Hank's Haunting    Part two in the House Divided series

by Piscean6724



Series: A House Divided [2]
Category: Emergency!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:02:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 94,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piscean6724/pseuds/Piscean6724
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Stanley home isn't the only house disrupted by Hank's unusual behavior.  Will the A-shift fall apart along with their leader?  This is the second installment in the series "A House Divided."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story is being published as a stand-alone piece but will be more enjoyable to the reader if the first story in this series (A House Divided – Chet’s Cataclysm) is read first. 

A House Divided – Hank’s Haunting

Chapter 1

Rebecca Stanley lay curled up on the sofa, soft feminine snores escaping from her barely parted lips. The sensation of something crawling along the tender flesh at the corner of her mouth aroused her from her slumber. She swiped at the nuisance and grimaced at the stinging sensation the action caused her. Peeling open her sticky eyelids, she glanced around at the empty living room while she used her finger tips to swipe the drops of saliva that had spilled beyond her lips during her nap. 

“Mmmgh,” she groaned into the stillness as she pushed herself up from the striped olive green and gold sofa, sitting up for a moment while her brain kicked into gear. Her mussed up shoulder length chestnut hair lay disheveled around her shoulders; the large combs holding it back away from her face were askew. She looked at the clock and saw that it was 3:25 pm. He was at the birthday party for the little girl Chet had resuscitated last year on that horrible foggy morning. Hank had invited her to join him after the little girl’s mother had left the invitation at the station a couple of weeks ago. But one look at herself in the mirror this morning and she knew she needed to stay home.  
She and Hank had been sleeping in separate bedrooms for several days now. No longer was she able to tolerate his worsening behavior. She recalled leaving their bedroom in the wee hours of the morning on many occasions over the last few weeks but the last few nights, she had simply gone to bed in the guest room and left him alone. Their daughters were teenagers now and caught up in their own routines. She figured they must suspect something but neither of them asked and so she never volunteered any information, nothing other than the little white lies she had been telling recently as a preemptive strike against the questions that were sure to come from those who knew her best. How could she tell them the truth when she didn’t know what the truth was anymore? 

Tonight was the night she was going to ask him. She could no longer live like this; their daughters couldn’t live in a house like this one had become. And even though he wouldn’t admit it, Hank Stanley couldn’t continue living like this much longer either. 

E!

Chet Kelly spent extra time in his small bathroom grooming his hair and mustache. He wanted everything to be perfect for the party. He had only spoken to Caroline Marks a few times since she had suddenly shown up at the station two weeks ago and invited all of Station 51’s A-shift to her daughter, Corrie’s, third birthday party. 

Chet stared into the mirror once again but his mind was reeling back in time to a foggy morning and a massive pile-up on the 405. He remembered the sounds of the young mother crying that her daughter wasn’t moving beneath her. He could still feel the crunching of the broken glass and twisted metal beneath him as he crawled inside the cramped space of the brown car flipped onto its side as Roy carefully lifted up the crying woman allowing Chet to extricate her lifeless toddler trapped beneath her. He remembered lying the tiny limp form down on the asphalt looking as if she were nothing more than a life-sized doll, the shouts and cries mingling in his mind with the pale face of the tiny girl. All the while, the smell of gasoline vapors and the screeching sound of metal being sheared apart assaulted his senses. But Chet only had one goal in mind on that fateful morning; he had to perform cardiopulmonary resuscitation on the smallest victim he’d ever had to attempt to resuscitate…and he had to do it by himself. All the other men from multiple stations were busy performing their own rescues leaving him with the harrowing job of child CPR. He recalled counting his chest compressions then using his own lungs to breathe life back into the tiny child. His determination kept him going for an unknown amount of time until the prettiest little dark eyes he’d ever seen fluttered back to life. He felt her faint pulse and shallow breathing while her mother’s woeful cries of joy spoke for them both. She’s alive! She’s alive! He allowed the echoes to fade back into a memory he would cherish forever as the present day nudged its way back into his realty.

The memory was one of the moments that would always define Chet’s career as a firefighter. But today was a day to celebrate Corrie Marks’ future. She was turning three years old and according to her mother, Chet was the reason she was alive. He still found it difficult to take credit for saving the child’s life and instead, always reaffirmed to Caroline that it was a joint effort from the entire station. She usually acknowledged her agreement but he could tell that she was still grateful for what he’d done for them that day. One day, he hoped he might be able to share with her what that rescue had done for him but today was all about Corrie.

Chet flipped off the light switch and reached for the lavender box with the deep purple ribbon attached. He hoped he’d chosen a good gift for Corrie. He had no experience in selecting toys for little girls and this was one very special little girl. He picked up the box and walked out the door headed across the sidewalk to the second apartment on the bottom floor. This was going to be the first time he had been inside Caroline’s apartment even though they had chatted a few times by phone. It was during those night time talks that he’d learned so much about Caroline Marks and so far, he really liked what he knew.

Caroline Marks had been in the early stages of her pregnancy with her first child when her husband, Corey Marks, had been killed in Vietnam. She’d suffered through the remainder of her pregnancy without the man she loved and six months later she’d given birth to a healthy baby girl. The golden haired child looked a lot like her mother but she had her father’s dark eyes, or so Caroline had confided to Chet during one of their talks. She had named her daughter Corrine but chose to call her Corrie in honor of the father she never met. She had warned Chet and the rest of the men from 51’s that Corrie was a bit shy around men being reared without a male presence in her home but for whatever reason, the precocious toddler had taken to Chet immediately…and the Irishman loved it. 

Caroline and Corrie moved into the apartment across from Chet after she was released from the hospital. Due to her back injury, she required a ground floor apartment and fate provided what she needed near the man she now considered to be her hero. Over the past few months, she had been faithfully doing her exercises and stretches and other than a slight limp and some minor twinges of pain, she was doing well. Her physicians had been amazed at her recovery as well as that of her daughter. Corrie, had no residual effects from the near-fatal accident and every day Caroline looked at her, she rejoiced in the miracle that was Corrie Marks. Now, she was finally going to get to share this special day with some very special people in their lives. She had invited the A-shift from Station 51 and it had sounded as though at least some of them might come. Her in-laws were making the three hour drive to be there for their granddaughter’s special day. They were still a big part of Caroline and Corrie’s lives and for that she would be eternally grateful. Her own parents were deceased and so she still looked to Mr. and Mrs. Marks for advice on parenting and many other things. Even though their son was gone, a part of him would always be alive in his daughter. 

Caroline looked around at the table with the cake and chips on it and repositioned the decorations so that everything was perfect. She double checked the punch in her freezer and was pleased that it was quite slushy then she headed back to Corrie’s room to brush the toddler’s hair one last time before her guests began to arrive.   
She had just cinched Corrie’s white bow in her hair when she heard a knock on her front door.

“That might be Grammy and Pop, Corrie. Let’s go see.”

The two of them laughingly made their way down the hallway and were all smiles when she pulled open her front door.

“Mizzer Fet,” Corrie squealed at the top of her lungs reaching up to the grinning lineman.

“Well, hello there ladybug,” Chet crooned reaching down for the little girl and hoisting her up in his arms. He looked back over at Caroline and nearly lost his breath at her stunning natural beauty. “And..uh…hello to you too, Caroline.”

“Hi Chet…I’m so glad you could come,” she smiled welcomingly as she stepped back away from the doorway. “Please come on in.”

He stepped across the threshold and allowed the squirming child to slide down from his grasp. She had spotted the gift he was carrying and giggled in delight. 

“Dat my birfday pe-zent?”

Chet gave Caroline a little wink then knelt down in front of the jumping child. “Well, lemme see,” he began peeking beneath the ribbon as if searching for a name. “It says here that this is for the prettiest little girl in the world. Now, is that you?”

Corrie clapped her hands together and nodded her head.

“Ok and it says here,” he said emphasizing the other side. “That it’s only for the sweetest little girl in the world. Is that you?”

Again, the child couldn’t contain her excitement and began to dance around him in a sort of childish marching motion. 

“And it says right here in the middle that it’s for the most special little girl in the world who is turning three years old today.” He looked at her widening his eyes as if in surprise. “Are you three years old today, ladybug?”

“Yea!” She clapped then struggled to hold up three pudgy fingers and reached for the present.

“Hold on there, Corrie. We have to wait until everyone gets here before you open it.”

Chet watched as the little girl lowered her face, poking out her bottom lip as she promptly sat down on the floor in the middle of the room, pouting. He saw the look Caroline had on her face and knew that perhaps his services were needed in a different type of rescue this time. He plopped himself down in front of Corrie and crossed his legs. He propped his elbows on his knees and rested his chin in his hands. He waited as Corrie watched him with the inquiring look of wonder only a child can possess. She drew her faint dark blonde eyebrows together in curiosity wondering why a grown man was behaving like a child. He continued to stare at her dark eyes, mimicking her position, and then slowly allowed a snicker to escape from beneath his mustache. Soon it was followed by another stifled giggle as his face reddened a bit. He twitched his mouth a little causing his mustache to wiggle as he exaggerated his efforts to restrain his laughter. This tiny bit of movement resulted in a loud round of high pitched giggles from the guest of honor and soon the two of them were rolling in laughter just as another knock sounded at the front door.

E!

Hank stopped by the toy store on his way to Corrie’s birthday party. He was beginning to regret that he’d accepted the invitation. He walked aimlessly down aisle after aisle of suitable toys for a three year old as his mind took him back to the time when he was a young father of two small daughters. He could almost hear their giggles and see their flowing dark hair hanging in soft curls down their backs as they walked these same aisles. The misty memories moved on to moments he’d shared pushing them on the swings at the park near their home. Higher, Daddy, higher! He could still hear their young voices squealing with delight as he pushed the swings a little harder; the sensation of the soft cotton fabric of their matching outfits rubbing across his palms as he pushed first Melissa with his right hand and then her younger sister Victoria with his left made him want to dig deeper into the memory and hug them tightly, never letting them grow up. The memory of the butterfly wispiness of their hair streaming across his lower arms with each push sent shivers down his spine. 

Then the reality of his situation came crashing down on him as harshly as a roof collapsing after a fire has eaten away its support walls. Kyle Carrigan had been only a few months away from joining his life with the woman he loved. Hank wondered to himself if their marriage might have resulted in Kyle also enjoying the bonds of a father/daughter relationship had the young man’s life not been snuffed out too soon. 

Station 51 had been the first to arrive on scene that night nearly a month ago and as was the protocol, Hank assumed the role of incident commander. He had given the orders directing his men and those from two other stations, including their paramedics, to man hoses and attack the inferno. He had just made the decision to change tactics when an explosion ripped through the night…and unknowingly tore his own sanity apart at the seams. The outcome of that fateful night left one firefighter deceased, another critically injured and one of his own committing an act that should have left him banned from the department for life. Firefighter Kelly, with the help of his crew mates, had been restored to the fold of Station 51’s A-shift against Hank’s better judgment. Paramedic Jacobs would survive and in all likelihood would one day return to the fire service after a lengthy recovery. But it was the face of Paramedic Kyle Carrigan that haunted Hank every minute of every day. 

He squeezed his eyes closed slowing his breathing down and calming his rapid heartbeat. When he dared to open them again, he found that he had wandered away from the girls toys and was standing in front of a plastic replica of a 1930’s model antique fire truck. “Damn it,” he mumbled, looking sheepishly around him afterwards grateful that no young children had heard his foul language. 

From the adjacent aisle, Hank heard a small voice that sounded familiar and then an adult voice he recognized. 

“Look, Mommy…let’s get her a Mrs. Beasley doll like mine,” the small voice called out.

“Jennifer, I think that’s a good choice, don’t you Chris?”

Hank scrubbed his face briskly with the palm of his hand then hurriedly rushed empty handed out the door. He really did not want to run into the family of one of his men in a toy store when his mind was elsewhere. He was in no mood for celebrating. There was only one place he wanted to be at the moment and it wasn’t at a birthday party for a three year old girl.

On the opposite side of the parking lot, Roy DeSoto watched as the tall fire captain rushed from the entrance of the store without making a purchase. He watched as Hank got in his car and turned right out of the parking lot. Obviously, the captain had a different destination in mind. “Cap?” The paramedic questioned softly inside his vehicle as his blue eyes followed the rapidly departing black sedan. He wanted to follow the man but his wife and children were inside the store picking out a present for the little girl they had never met and he had promised Corrie that he would come to her birthday party and bring his kids. Roy was a man of honor and knew that a promise had to be upheld but as a father himself, he knew this was especially true when that promise was made to a small child. Now he sat waiting in the parking lot and hoping that he would have a chance to speak privately to his superior at some point in the near future. Captain Stanley had not been the same man since the fire that had cost Kyle Carrigan his life. The change had been abrupt and Roy thought he understood why. He just hoped he could intervene before Hank did something he would forever regret.

E!


	2. A House Divided - Hank's Haunting

Warning: strong language

Hank’s Haunting

Chapter – 2

Chet and Corrie were giggling uncontrollably as he tickled the previously pouting three year old when she squealed with joy then scrambled out of his arms.

“Gwammy!” she rejoiced bounding toward the open door and into the arms of a middle-aged woman with blondish gray hair. The older woman wore a huge smile on her face as she knelt down to take her grandchild into her open arms.

Chet felt a bit foolish sitting cross-legged on the floor, especially when his eyes met the stern disapproving expression on the older man’s face; a man he could only assume was the father of Caroline’s late husband. He felt his face redden in embarrassment as he stood up from the floor and offered his hand to Mr. Marks as introductions were made. 

“Mom and Dad Marks, I’d like for you to meet Firefighter Chester Kelly. He’s the one I told you about when we were in the hospital…remember?” Caroline was not immune to the glare her father-in-law had given her new friend. “Chet, these are my in-laws…Gregory and Miriam Marks. Better known as Pop and Grammy, right Corrie?” Caroline hoped her introduction and the inclusion of Corrie into the uncomfortable conversation might ease the tension.

The older man looked down at Chet’s outstretched hand and firmly accepted it; a little too firmly for Chet as he tried not to wince from the strong grip.

“You can call me Chet.” The younger man said with a nod of his head as they shook hands but he couldn’t help noticing the vein bulging slightly around the graying temple of the older man. He tried not to take it personally as he knew the man had lost his son but he still felt a bit uneasy in the presence of Mr. Marks.

“And I’m Mim…or Grammy, whichever you prefer,” Miriam closed the slight distance between them ignoring Chet’s outstretched hand and enveloping him within her embrace. “Thank you isn’t enough for what you did for us last year,” she spoke softly into his ear and immediately felt the young man relax his tense muscles.

“Ahem, yes, I also want to thank you for saving them,” Gregory said sincerely even though his facial expressions didn’t quite match his words of gratitude. “They mean everything to us; I’m sure you understand that,” he continued, once again staring into Chet’s blue eyes with his own deep dark orbs. “We’d do anything necessary to keep them safe,” he said emphasizing the word ‘anything’ and making sure that Chet understood his meaning. “So, we’re glad you were there for them…on that day.”

Chet gulped; he could almost hear Gregory’s unspoken message – glad Chet was there a year ago but not glad that he was here now. The nervous fireman suddenly felt warm in the otherwise cool setting of the apartment. He was still unsure of how to respond to such accolades but then again, he wasn’t sure whether Greg Marks’ words were an actual expression of gratitude or a thinly veiled threat. Relief flooded his soul when he heard another knock and recognized the young family standing in the open doorway.

“Ahem, oh…Hiya, Roy…Jo…my how your little ones are growing,” he stumbled nervously as he rushed to greet the surprised DeSoto clan.

Roy lifted his eyebrows trying hard not to laugh at the uncharacteristic greeting they were receiving from his shiftmate. “Yea…hi…are you ok?”

“Oh, great, swell, never better…say, Mr. and Mrs. Marks, this is my good friend, Roy DeSoto and his wife Joann and their two children Jennifer and Chris.” Chet’s voice sounded a bit high pitched and rushed so he cleared his throat and continued on before anyone else could say anything. “Ahem, yea…Roy here’s one of the best paramedic’s in the state and he’s the man who saved Caroline’s life that day.”

Roy dipped his head slightly at his grandiose introduction by the perspiring lineman. “Very nice to meet you both. Uh, Chet’s kind of exagger…”

“He’s so modest, unlike his partner,” Chet interrupted. “Now if Gage were here he’d be talkin’ about…oh by the way DeSoto…where is that wayward partner of yours?” Chet felt as if he were still being scrutinized by Mr. Marks so he wrapped his arm around Roy as though they were best buddies and ushered him away from the older couple. 

As soon as they were out of hearing range of the others, Roy slid out from beneath Chet’s arm. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” he whispered through gritted teeth. 

Chet rubbed his hands together then ran his fingers through his curly dark hair. “Roy, man…that guy hates me!” He leaned slightly to his right so he could watch the older man and sure enough, Greg was looking at him. “He’s staring at me now. I..I..whaddo I do?” Chet whispered back in a voice full of desperation.

“Well for starters you quit acting so paranoid. That’s why he’s staring at you!”

Chet shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m not paranoid…I’m just wonderin’ why he hates me when he just met me!” 

“Yea, Kelly…that’s not being paranoid at all,” Roy deadpanned then turned his back on his worried friend and walked over to greet Caroline and Corrie.

“Hello there, Corrie. How’s the birthday girl?” He patted the little girl on the head then looked up at Caroline. “Nice to see you again. Have you met my wife, Joann?”

Across the room Chet pretended to be looking at the birthday cake as he carefully watched Greg waltz smugly into the kitchen and pour himself a cup of coffee. He saw the older man fill up two other cups before turning back to Chet. “I hear firemen like coffee…how about a cup, Chester?”

Chet swallowed uncontrollably at the use of his formal name, already feeling tiny rivulets of sweat drifting down from his temples. He knew that a cup of coffee would only make him hotter but then again, he didn’t want to do anything to upset Mr. Marks and ruin the birthday party either. “Uh, ahua,” he coughed into his closed fist. “Yea, sure…love a cup,” he said wondering if perhaps the other man might throw the scalding liquid into his face as he eased into the kitchen. 

“Roy, Joanne? Care for some coffee?” Greg asked innocently, realizing he had just upped Chet’s anxiety level.

“None for me, thanks,” Joanne said sweetly then returned to her conversation with Caroline and Mim.

“Sure, I’d like a cup,” Roy mentioned heading into the kitchen. 

Chet felt a sudden urge to remove the steaming cups from Mr. Marks’ reach and quickly scooped them up in his hands preparing to offer one to Roy when he inadvertently bumped into Mr. Marks’ elbow and spilled hot coffee on the man’s forearm.

“Ohmygod, shi…uh,…I mean shoot, geez…oww, um…I’m so sorry, I’m…I…uh.” Chet stammered as he wiggled around the tense injured man. His own lap had caught enough of the hot liquid to make him squirm in discomfort as the heat penetrated the fabric of his pants and boxers stinging the tender flesh beneath. He was so caught up in his unintended dance that he missed the smirk on Greg’s face when the older man saw where the rest of the coffee had landed. 

Greg, on the other hand, did not miss the narrow eyed glare he was getting from his wife. “Um, it’s…it’s ok, Chester. Ah, are you ok?” 

Roy grimaced at Chet and quickly pulled open the freezer door of the refrigerator removing an ice tray. He held it over the sink and pulled back on the metal lever releasing the frozen cubes then set about preparing an ice pack for the older man’s burned forearm.

“Need an ice pack, Chet?” Roy asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“No, I’m uh, gonna, ah…I’ll be baa…back in a bit,” Chet stuttered as he tried unsuccessfully to make a graceful exit. 

“Mizzer Fet, pee pee,” Corrie announced loudly, pointing at the wet stain near his crotch. 

“Sshhh, Corrie…he spilled his coffee that’s all,” Mim explained to the child as she once again gave her husband an evil eye. “He’ll be right back after he changes his clothes.”

“Uh, yea…I’m…see ya in a few,” he said rushing out the front door never noticing Marco walking up the sidewalk.

Marco gave a quick knock on the front door which Roy happened to be standing near.

“I’ll get it, Caroline,” he offered reaching for the door knob, happy to welcome in another member of the crew.

“Uh, DeSoto?” Marco began as he entered the apartment jerking his thumb back across his shoulder in the direction of Chet’s apartment. 

“Don’t ask, Marco…just don’t ask.” 

E!

Rebecca Stanley patted the make-up sponge repeatedly across the corner of her mouth, wincing with each soft touch. She gingerly pulled up on her swollen upper lip and saw the damage her teeth had inflicted. She allowed her tongue to slip along the edge further exploring her injury as she took a long look into the mirror…not at all liking the face that looked back at her. She reached for the small opaque bottle of Visine, tilting her head and squeezing a couple of drops into each red-rimmed eye then closing her lids tightly in response to the stinging the drops caused. She needed to look her best for Hank when he returned from the birthday party. She neither wanted to put undue stress on him nor give him any reason to refuse their talk later on. This was much too important for the future of their family.

E!

Hank tried to focus his eyes on the television set above the bar but he wasn’t seeing anything interesting on the small screen and so he pulled out his cigarettes, tapped one out and lit up. The bartender had been eyeing him suspiciously then looked beyond the haggard man to the older waitress slipping up behind him. She locked eyes with the bartender giving him a silent signal that she would handle this particular patron.

Glenda was the widow of a former Los Angeles County Fire Department Captain and had begun working at Cinders shortly after his death. She needed the extra income but mainly she needed to stay in touch with the brotherhood that frequented the establishment. The décor of the place matched the name and various items related to the profession of the fire service adorned the walls. She had seen many men debrief after a bad run by sitting around the establishment, commiserating with each other. She had also seen many men drown there sorrows when things were not going well in their life – either personally or professionally…sometimes both. She recognized the appearance of Captain Stanley and she knew immediately that he fell into the latter category on this particular afternoon.

Glenda emptied out the ashtray a few seats down from where Hank sat alone then wiped it out with a rag and pushed it near the thin hand that held the smoldering cigarette. “How ya doin’ Cap’n Stanley?”

“Oh, fine…how’s m’ fa’orite waitress?” He asked slurring a bit, trying to sound upbeat but only succeeding in sounding drunk. He’d consumed five gin and tonics over the course of about an hour and a half without eating and had just ordered another when Glenda walked up. 

“I’m doin’ great…but I don’t think you are, Cap. Wanna talk about it?”

He took a long drag from his cigarette enjoying the burning sensation in his lungs then exhaled the smoke just as the bartender delivered his next drink. He took a tentative sip then nodded his head negatively. “Nah…nothin’s wrong with me. Nothin’ a’ all.”

She gently rested a manicured hand on his shoulder. “You can’t lie to me. I’ve seen that forlorn look a thousand times in this joint and I know exactly what it means.” She looked around at the semi-crowded bar then back at the disheveled appearance of her customer. “C’mon, Hank. Let me call someone to come and get you.”

The bartender nodded his head then turned to his next customer.

“Nope…ain’t quite time t’go home yet,” he mumbled trying to focus on his watch. 

“Well, it sure isn’t time for another drink. Lemme get you a cup of coffee or something. Gonna be a while before you can drive.” She gently pushed herself off the bar stool beside her friend and headed into the back.

Hank, meanwhile, picked up his glass and gulped down the rest of the drink before Glenda had a chance to return and dispose of it for him. He pulled another drag from his cigarette and drunkenly tried to blow smoke rings into the dingy air. After a few failed attempts he crushed out the cigarette in the clean black ashtray just as a white cup full of steaming black coffee appeared in front of him.

“Drink it up, Cap. I’m not gonna let you leave here like this.”

Hank looked up at the serious expression on Glenda’s face. “You can’t stop me lit-tle lady,” he hiccupped unflatteringly.

The serious expression on Glenda’s face remained as stoic as ever. She leaned across the bar slightly to make sure her friend was both seeing her face and hearing her words. “Like hell I can’t, Hank Stanley. You walk out of here in this condition and I promise you I’ll have LAPD pulling you over before you can make it a block away from here.”

Hank drew his bushy eyebrows together as the realization of just how serious she was finally penetrated the harsh exterior of the stupor he found himself in. No woman had ever threatened him before and while a part of him wanted to laugh uncontrollably, another part was beginning to feel angry. “You wouldn’t do ‘at t’me. I c’drive a’ engine wi’ no s’eep, damn it wo-man,” he growled pointing his finger at Glenda.

“Maybe so…but you damn sure won’t be driving home drunk. Now either give me your keys and I’ll take you home or I’m gonna call a cab. But I won’t knowingly let the department lose another captain in a traffic accident and I won’t let you hurt somebody else either, Hank.” Glenda relaxed her stance a bit seeing Mack, her bartender, watching the exchange from the other end of the bar. In the quagmire of his mind, Hank remembered that her husband had died in an automobile accident a few years earlier.

Hank slid off his stool in a futile attempt to stand up; his elbow catching on the edge of the bar spared him the embarrassment of falling on the floor. He looked at Glenda through his unusually long bangs and felt his nostrils flare in frustration. “Who tol’ you? Some g’damn boot been in ‘ere talkin’ ‘bout me?”

His response caught the waitress off guard. “Nobody told me anything; I can tell you’re drunk by the way you’re acting and talking and if I let you leave here and you crash your car into a tree or somebody else’s car then it’ll be my fault and I won’t do it. Now…keys, cab or cops?” She questioned.

“None o’ the ‘bove,” he spouted off, pushing off the bar again and feeling the room sway.

“Alright, cops it is,” Glenda said loud enough for Mack to overhear as she reached for the black rotary phone hanging on the wall behind her. 

Mack sauntered down the length of the bar making sure that the drunken patron saw him. He and Glenda had played this game many times before and they were usually successful without employing outside assistance. 

Hank saw the larger man stepping closer to him and even though the booze told him he could take him on in a fight, the few brain cells he was currently using persuaded him to back down just a bit. He saw the bottled blonde ponytail of his favorite waitress swishing as she tilted her head trapping the receiver between her right ear and shoulder, turning enough to allow Hank to hear what she was saying. “Hello, this is Glenda down at Embers inders…”

“A’right! A’right!”

Glenda turned around at the sound of the gruff voice behind her knowing that Hank was acquiescing to her demands. “Excuse me,” she said turning sideways so as to make eye contact with the captain. “Did you say something, Hank?”

“I said…a’right…I’ll wa-wait a li’l while ‘fore I go,” he said lowering his voice as well as his head. 

Glenda hung up the phone; she had been listening to the ringing sound of her own home telephone anyway. She didn’t want Hank to have a police record any more than she wanted him to be the cause of a traffic accident. She had known that Mack was certainly capable of restraining him until she actually did call the police had he needed to but she felt a sense of relief wash over her when she realized it wasn’t going to be necessary.

“Very well,” she said offering a hint of a smile. “I’ll get you another round of coffee while you wait.”

E!

“It was very nice meeting all of you,” Joann DeSoto said in her most pleasant voice. She truly had enjoyed getting to know Caroline while watching their daughters enjoying playing with each other. She knew that Chris had felt a bit out of place but he had been a trooper, pretending to be enthusiastic about the girly toys he was offered by his miniature hostess.

“I’m so glad you all came to share this special day with us and,” Caroline dipped her head fighting back the mistiness, “and I’m grateful that Roy, Chet and the rest of the men were on duty that day.”

Joanne smiled lovingly at her husband, hooking her arm into the crook of his elbow. “I’m very proud of my man.” She threw him a green-eyed wink then returned her gaze to Caroline. “Maybe you and I can get together sometime and do some shopping or maybe let the girls have a play date.” She looked down with pride at Jennifer who was helping Corrie pick up the discarded wrapping paper under the direction of Miriam. “Or, if you ever need a sitter for anything just give me a call. Our girls seem to get along great,” she hid her smile seeing the smitten look on Chet’s face. Joanne was an observant woman and she had seen the looks Chet and Caroline had been sharing during the party. 

“I just might take you up on that offer,” she grinned.

Marco and Roy shook hands with Gregory and politely acknowledged their pleasure at meeting him as well as Miriam.

“I’m so glad you invited me…had a good time, Caroline.”

“Thank you Mr. Lopez…er, Marco,” she corrected. “I’m so thankful for your part in allowing us to celebrate this day. And I really appreciate your sharing it with us.”

Behind them, Miriam was chastising her husband. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Greg. He seems like a nice young man and he DID save our granddaughter’s life,” she scolded.

Greg grimaced beneath the heat of her voice. “I know, Mim…I know but…”

“Listen, I saw it too and I had the same thought but…well, Corey’s death wasn’t his fault.”

Gregory dropped his eyes downward nodding his agreement. Walking into what should have been his son’s apartment and seeing his granddaughter laughing and playing in the lap of another man was more than he could take. He exhaled loudly. “I just wish he could be here…he should be here, Mim…it isn’t fair.”

“I don’t like it either but…but we can’t change it. And Caroline deserves to be happy again and…,” Mim sniffed. “And Corrie needs a father. It’s gonna happen one day…we might as well accept that.”

Gregory nodded his agreement, albeit slowly. He finally looked into his wife’s beautiful face. “I’ll try, Mim…I promise.”

Roy walked out of the apartment behind his wife and children and just ahead of his shiftmate. As the small group made their way down the sidewalk toward the parking lot, Roy turned around and spoke in a subdued tone. “Any idea why Cap didn’t make it?”

Marco shrugged his shoulders. “No…he said he’d be here. I knew Johnny and Mike had other plans but I really thought Cap and Mrs. Stanley were coming.”

Roy slowed his steps down allowing the distance between himself and his family to lengthen a little more. “Listen, you got a few minutes? I’d really like to talk to you about something I saw today…if you don’t mind.”

Marco grimaced beneath his dark mustache and narrowed his eyes slightly. “Cap?”

“Yea.”

“Sure, just get Joanne to drive home and then we can go somewhere to discuss it if you’d like,” the older man offered.

Roy slapped his friend on the shoulder. “Thanks, Marco.” He picked up the pace and spoke to Joanne as the kids seated themselves in the back seat. As he watched he saw Joanne kiss Roy on the cheek then step around to the driver’s side of the car. 

“Ok, you ready?” Roy asked as he walked back up the sidewalk to the place where his friend stood waiting.

“Sure, should we include Chet,” Marco asked turning slightly around and seeing the door of Caroline’s apartment opening again.

“Nah,” Roy grinned. “I think he’s kind of enjoying his time with Caroline.”

“He may be but I don’t think Greg likes it any.”

“Yea, well…let’s let them work it out. I’d rather not involve anybody else until I know what’s going on.” Roy glanced over Marco’s shoulder and saw that Greg and Miriam were exiting the apartment with Corrie holding their hands and walking between them on their way to the playground. 

Chet waved timidly to his two shiftmates as he and Caroline walked side by side following the older couple in the direction of the playground. He had no idea what the two men were talking about and he honestly didn’t care. Right now, his only concern was spending more time with Caroline…and trying to somehow repair the damaged first impression he’d made on Gregory Marks.

E!

Marco and Roy slammed their doors simultaneously as they sat down in Marco’s burgundy Buick. 

“Ok, Desoto…where to?”

Roy exhaled loudly as he tried to decide what to tell his lineman. “Let’s go ride by Cap’s house and see if he’s there,” he began. “And I’ll explain why I’m so concerned.”

As the two men were on their way to the other side of town, Roy filled Marco in on the scene he’d witnessed from the parking lot of the toy store. By the time they turned onto the street the Stanley’s lived on, Marco too was worried. Hank was always a man of his word so for him to tell someone he was going to do something and then fail to follow through was simply unheard of. The fact that Roy had seen him leave hurriedly and turn in a direction away from not only the party but also away from his home was even more concerning. 

“Roy...he hasn’t been acting like himself for several weeks now. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Roy looked around the perimeter of the Stanley residence as Marco slowed down while passing by. “His car isn’t there so…yea…yea, I am.”

Marco pulled to a stop at the stop sign at the end of the street. He flipped on his blinker then looked both ways before pulling out making the sweeping left turn, his heart beating in time to the rapid clicking of the blinker. “On my way,” he mumbled knowing that they both had an idea of where their leader might be yet hoping they would be wrong.

E!

A/N: Let me assure everyone that this is not a story about alcoholism. Only the beginning has any similarities with Chet's story. Thanks.


	3. chapter 3

Warning: strong language

A House Divided – Hank’s Haunting

Chapter 3

Even though Hank was halfway through his second cup of coffee, the alcohol in his system was still overwhelming the caffeine. Glenda saw his head nodding from where it rested in his palm and feared he would soon fall off the stool on which he was precariously perched; the only thing holding him upright was his elbow propped on the bar. She gently shook his thin shoulders arousing him from his nap.

“Uh, wha…?” His slurring voice was cut short by the smacking of his dry lips. Hank looked up and to his right where eventually the worried expression of a familiar face came into focus.

“C’mon, Captain. We need to get you home before your wife gets worried about you.”

“Humph…she pro’ly would rather…I s’ay here but…I…can d’ive now.”

Glenda couldn’t stop the snicker bubbling in the back of her throat. “Oh, I have no doubt you can dive. It’s your DRIVING I’m worried about. Now, you want me to call someone or would you rather take a cab?”

Hank straightened up using one hand to scrub the sleep from his face as he became more alert to his surroundings. “Ah…lemme take a piss…then,” his reddened face gave away his embarrassment for his language in front of a lady. “Sorry…then I’ll call so’body.” Hank stood up, carefully holding on to the bar and using it to ambulate slowly and haphazardly towards the nearby men’s restroom.

E!

Marco sat impatiently at the light; his nervous fingers tapped out a cadence from some long forgotten song. As the light turned green and he released the pressure on the break, he finally spoke to his silent passenger. “If he is there…what are we going to do?”

Roy leaned his head back against the headrest before he responded. “I guess we’ll go in and make sure he’s ok. Maybe, just act like we decided to have a few beers or something.”  
Marco nodded in agreement as he approached the turn he was looking for. The L-shaped parking lot of Cinders was sparsely populated as it was still early for the drinking crowd. He turned in and slowly began perusing the rows dotted with vehicles. After a few moments, the two men spotted the black sedan they had been searching for. 

“Well…you were right, DeSoto.” He pulled his Buick into the parking space beside Hank’s car and shifted into park. “Now what?” He asked turning to his friend.

Roy stared out the side window at the car he had feared would be here. “Well…we don’t confront him, that’s for sure.” He heard the slight groan of agreement from Marco and then he continued. “I guess we just each order a beer and act surprised to see him. If he’s alright then we can leave whenever we’re ready.”

“And if he’s not?” Marco asked too quickly.

“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” Roy answered honestly then turned to his left. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Marco agreed opening his door and following the red haired paramedic toward the entrance.

E!

Hank reached the bathroom door and pushed through it with a bit more force than necessary. The action landed him in the chest of a rather large dark young man who thankfully kept him from landing on his face on the bathroom floor.

“Whoa, you a’right?” the man asked realizing that the older man who had just bumped into him was struggling to remain vertical.

Hank patted the man on the chest in a grateful gesture then looked up into his ebony eyes. He could feel his own blood shot eyes jerking within their sockets as he tried to focus on the man, hoping he didn’t know him. “P, parden me,” he belched out.

“Man, you better cool it or the fuzz will be all over you. Don’t wanna end up in the slammer when ya leave here,” the big man huffed.

“Yea, thanks pal,” Hank managed to say as the two stepped around each other. He assumed his usual stance at the urinal, unzipping his pants and leaning one hand against the wall to steady himself as he finally found some relief for his aching bladder.

Roy and Marco both scanned the inside of the foggy establishment as they meandered up to the bar. There were a few guys shooting pool and a couple others were involved in a serious game of darts. A few others in various locations were watching a college football game on television. Both firemen from 51’s were aware of the private rooms in the back that were often reserved for special celebrations but they could tell that the rooms were not in use this afternoon. 

“What’ll ya have?”

Roy looked up at the bartender and ordered two draft beers while Marco continued to look around. As the older man behind the bar pulled two cold mugs out and began filling them, Roy decided to ask him the question both he and Marco were trying to answer. “Uh, we’re looking for a friend of ours who’s supposed to be here. He’s got short dark hair, tall and…and I believe he might be wearing a tan shirt.”

Before the bartender could answer, a man on a stool nearby spoke up. “Sounds like the skinny white cat that ran into me in the bathroom,” the man said from behind the rim of his glass.

Marco spun around having heard the exchange. “Is he still in there?” He asked just as a frothy mug was placed in front of him.

“Probably…might need help gettin’ out, man,” he said smirking lightly as he watched the two new arrivals exchange concerned looks. 

“Thank you,” Roy offered as he took a long drink. 

Marco leaned against the bar propping one hip on the stool nearest him. “Think we ought to go in there?”

“Let’s give him a minute,” Roy stated, looking at the gray door with the word “MEN” written in red letters on it.   
Moments later, a disheveled Hank Stanley stumbled out of the restroom door staggering along the wall until he was close enough to reach out for the bar. He was trying to sit on a stool when Glenda walked up behind him, anchoring him with a hand on his elbow.

“Alright, sugar. Now, who do you want me to call?”

Roy was sitting closer to Hank than was Marco and he happened to overhear enough of the conversation to realize what was happening. He tapped Marco with the back of his hand then slipped off the stool and stepped over to the end of the bar.

“Ma’am…my friend and I know him and we’ll take care of him.”

Glenda looked confusingly at Roy trying to remember where she’d seen him before.

Hank looked to his left squinting his eyes in Roy’s general direction. “DeS-Soto?” He slurred.

“Yea, Cap. Lopez and I came in here for a drink but ah, it looks like maybe we need to get you home,” Roy offered shifting his eyes between Glenda and Hank.

Marco made his way over to the end of the bar and Glenda finally recognized the men once she saw them both together with their captain. She couldn’t remember their names but she did remember seeing them with Hank a few times. “A’right, Captain…you’re gonna go with your men or else I’m calling a cab. Now which will it be?”

“Sonofabitch…you busted me,” he rubbed his irritated eyes not realizing how loud he was talking.

“We’re not here to bust you, Cap. But, it looks like maybe you had a little too much to drive home yourself so let me drive your car and Marco can follow us. Then he can take me home.” Roy hoped his plan was sinking into the brain of their inebriated superior.

Hank looked up at Glenda then over at his two men. There was no way he was going to get away from the three of them as they stood staring at him. He suddenly felt small; a feeling he hadn’t had since before his growth spurt in junior high that shot him up taller than the other boys by a few inches. Finally, he acquiesced. “Why not,” he said reaching for his wallet. “Wha’s the damage, Mack?”

After paying up, Roy and Marco flanked their captain and helped him stand up. “Thanks,” Marco said to the blonde waitress. 

“Take care of him, fellas,” she said wistfully. Captains are special men, she thought to herself remembering the burden her own husband carried for many years until his death. 

The burden she could see in Hank Stanley’s eyes now. 

Roy pulled Hank’s arm over his shoulder and smiled at the concerned waitress. “Yes, ma’am…we will.”

Once the trio had made their way across the parking lot, they leaned the drunken man against the passenger’s side of his car while Roy waited for him to dig his keys out of his jeans pocket. As soon as he had taken possession of the keys, he and Marco eased Hank into the passenger’s seat and closed the door. They stood staring at the ground briefly. “I’ll follow you, DeSoto.”

“Yea, ok. I don’t…I don’t even know where to start trying to explain this to Mrs. Stanley,” Roy said running a hand through his thinning hair.

“Well, we don’t have to explain anything,” Marco said with a serious expression on his handsome features. “Cap does.”

E!

Rebecca kept staring at the clock wondering if perhaps it had stopped running. Time was passing by much too slowly for her as she waited for her husband to get home. She was nervous about the conversation she intended to have and yet she knew she no longer had a choice. Their situation wasn’t getting any better. In fact, it seemed to be getting worse. She turned off the oven allowing the pot roast and potatoes to remain inside so they would stay warm. She turned off the right front eye on the stove and covered the boiler with a lid so the cabbage would stay warm as long as possible. She then glanced once more at the wall clock and went to sit down and wait. 

E!

“How’s the party, ‘oy?”

Roy backed out of the parking lot turning in the direction of the Stanley residence. “It was real nice, Cap. Wish you’d’ve been there,” Roy said risking a fleeting glance at his passenger. 

Hank leaned his head against the window and held his eyes closed. The alcohol in his system was mucking up his thought processes preventing him from giving Roy a convincing lie. “Cou’n’t make it. Busy.”

Roy’s anger was returning with a vengeance. Hank had lied not only to Caroline but to little Corrie too. In Roy’s mind, that was inexcusable, especially in his current condition. “Yea, I noticed how busy you were back at Cinders. Hard work holding the bar up like that.”

“Don’ ge’ a smart mouth wi’ me, DeSoto. I’m your Cap’n,” Hank slurred, never opening his eyes.

Roy was normally able to control his temper. It was a skill he had been practicing for as long as he and Johnny had been partners. The junior paramedic frequently let his mouth override his brain which often left Roy being the level headed more sensible of the two. But tonight, he could almost feel himself switching places with his partner as the tiny ember of irritation that had ignited in his belly quickly grew into a raging inferno within his soul. Against, his better judgment, he opened his mouth and did something he never ever did with his superior; he gave the older man a piece of his mind. 

“You may be my captain at 51’s but right now I’m not your paramedic. No, right now you’re nothing but a lying drunk and I’m your designated driver…Hank!” He emphasized his point by calling the captain by his first name.

At the sound of his name, Hank jerked his eyes open and raised his head upright. “Whadda hell’d ya call me?”

Roy flipped on his blinker with a quick swipe of his hand, not daring to look his superior in the eye. “You heard me, Hank. I’ll call you Cap whenever we’re on the job OR whenever you’re deserving of the title…neither of which you are right now.”

Roy’s words echoed inside Hank’s drunken mind merging with his own self-recrimination from the last few weeks. His senior paramedic no longer thought he was worthy of the title of captain, something he had been struggling with himself since this whole nightmare began. It suddenly dawned on him why Roy had taken on this newfound attitude of his –

Roy knew the truth. “Stop!” Hank growled through gritted teeth.

“Nope, we’re almost at your house,” Roy said; the venting episode finally beginning to relieve his frustration, at least a little bit.

“I said, s’op da damn car NOW!” Hank emphasized his command with a punch toward the dashboard causing Roy to flinch nervously. Luckily for both Hank and the car, his reflexes were way off balance and he only succeeded in landing a glancing blow.

"Cut it out!” Roy yelled back as he turned into the Stanley’s driveway. He slammed the car in park pitching Hank forward then turned off the ignition. By the time he made his way around to the passenger’s side of the car to help Hank out, the older man was already struggling to free himself from the confines of his own automobile.

Hank felt Roy’s hands on his arms and something inside him snapped. He roughly pushed away the hands with a grunt. “Nex’ time I give ya a g’damn order ya better do ‘s I say,” he yelled, pointing a finger in Roy’s face.

Without missing a beat, Roy retorted. “Next time you give me an order you better be a sober fire captain instead of some drunken fool!” He released his grip on his captain and took a step back just as Marco turned in behind them. 

The headlights of Marco’s car momentarily blinded their captain which only added to his inability to get out of the car successfully. Instead of standing up, he stumbled to his knees.

Roy could only stand there and watch as the older man struggled to get to his feet. He looked over at Marco who was exiting his car and the two exchanged knowing glances.   
Marco had no idea what had transpired on the ride home but when he saw Hank stumble and Roy didn’t try to help him, he knew that whatever had happened it had to be very bad. He didn’t question Roy but instead reached down offering to give the older man a hand up. “Here Cap,” he said reaching down and pulling on Hank’s elbow.

“Go t’ hell, Lopez.” Hank’s words were meant to sting and they quickly hit their mark. 

Marco held both hands up in a sign of surrender and stood next to Roy; a grimace residing beneath his dark mustache. The two men watched as Hank struggled to get upright again and then turned to stumble toward his front door.

“C’mon…we can’t leave Rebecca and the girls to deal with him alone like this,” Roy said walking carefully behind the staggering man. He and Marco both walked to the side and slightly behind him ready to catch him should he fall. Fortunately, their services weren’t needed as he somehow managed to navigate the sidewalk and the two steps leading up to his front door. 

Roy lifted the keys ready to offer them to Hank when the front door suddenly opened wide. 

“Hank! What on earth happened?” Rebecca stood in the shadow of the porch and looked beyond her husband to the two men who stood sullen faced behind him. “Marco…Roy…what’s going on?”

“Hello Mrs. Stanly,” Roy began, as Hank nudged passed his wife. “He, ah, he kinda had too much to drink so we,” he turned to point at Marco. “We brought him home.”

Rebecca stood there stunned at the turn of events. Her husband had left to go to a child’s birthday party just a few short hours ago and now here he was drunk nearly to the point of passing out and two of his men had brought him home. “What kind of a party was this anyway?”

Hank’s stomach was already beginning to protest the large amount of gin he had ingested but once he was inside the house, the smell of dinner made the protest much more pronounced. “Wha…wha’s that smell,” he asked swallowing back the contents of his stomach that were beginning to churn upwards.

“It’s your dinner,” she said turning to him just in time to see him licking his lips and gulping. “Oh no…the cabbage,” she mumbled as Roy and Marco rushed passed her.

Roy was the first to notice the tell-tale signs on their captain’s face. He tapped Marco, pointing inside at their superior then both men rushed inside just as Hank began to heave. “Bathroom,” he said pulling the pale man down the hallway. He had been in the Stanley home enough times to know where the guest bathroom was located.   
Hank wrinkled his nose as the smell of the cooked cabbage danced around with his nausea and soon he felt waves of heat washing over him just as his stomach rumbled. He began to perspire and knew immediately what was about to happen. Before he could turn towards the bathroom, two sets of hands grabbed him and rushed him down the hallway. The blinding white light of the bathroom overhead light being turned on pierced his head like arrows through his eye sockets. His knees ached as he roughly fell on them in front of the toilet. In less than a second he began to heave the burning liquid mixture of gin, tonic water, coffee and stomach acid into the porcelain basin. “Aruugh, ugh, ahua,” he coughed and gagged until his stomach had nothing left to render; the episode left him dry heaving. His eyes were burning and watering from the pressure and his head felt as if it were going to explode. In the distance, he heard water running and soon felt a cold wet cloth bathing his forehead. 

Roy continued running the damp cloth across Hank’s brow until he thought the dry heaving had stopped. “Are you done, Cap?” he asked; his previous decision to refer to the man by his first name had been all but forgotten. He was rewarded with a simple nodding gesture. “Alright…let’s get you to bed.”

Roy and Marco worked together to get the wilted man to his feet; his previous verbal insults no longer being thrown about. When they finally had him standing, Roy turned around; his eyes widening in horror as the bright light from the bathroom illuminated Mrs. Stanley’s face for the first time.

“Mrs. Stanley? Are, are you ok?”

Rebecca was horrified. In the turmoil, she had forgotten about her bruises and threw her hand up to cover them as best she could. “Ah, yes..yes, I’m fine…it’s nothing really,” she lied as she hurried down the hallway to the master bedroom and began pulling back the covers on the bed.

Marco looked at Roy with a serious look in his eyes that Roy wasn’t sure how to read. He knew by the expression on his face that Marco had seen the bruises too. “C’mon….let’s get him in bed.”

Rebecca’s breathing was much too rapid as was her speech. “Let…let’s just take off his outer clothes and let him sleep in his boxers and undershirt,” she suggested.

“Yes ma’am. He needs to sleep on his stomach though in case he vomits some more. Don’t want him to aspirate,” Roy said as he and Marco sat Hank down struggling to keep the exhausted man from falling over while they undressed him. “You ah, you might want to bring a towel in here for him to lay his head on…just in case he…he throws up again.”

In short order and with minimal protesting in the form of grunts and groans from Hank, the three of them had him undressed and lying on his stomach with his face comfortably positioned on a bath towel. In no time, snores were emanating from his partially opened mouth as his dark bangs fell across his closed eyes.

“Do you want me to stay with him? I can call Joanne and let her know that I’m needed here,” Roy offered. His gut was telling him not to leave Mrs. Stanley alone with her husband under these circumstances.

“No, no I appreciate it but you boys go on back home. I’ll, I’ll take care of him now. Thank you for driving him back. I really do appreciate it. I just don’t know what could’ve…”

“Mrs. Stanley,” Roy carefully interrupted, knowing that her nervous chatter was a diversion. He waited for her to look at him but when she didn’t, he spoke up again. “Mrs. Stanley, are you sure you’re ok? I can have a look at you if you’d like,” he offered gesturing at her face.

Rebecca gulped then began to rapidly blink her eyes to fight back the stinging tears. She forced a smile to her face as she responded, “Oh, no that isn’t necessary, really. I just, just bumped into the door frame last night on my way to the bathroom. I shouldn’t have drunk that glass of milk before I went to bed.” She moved away hoping that the two men believed her.

“Yes ma’am, well if you’re sure you don’t need us to stay,” Roy left the question hanging in the air.

“That’s right. I don’t mind staying and helping out with him either,” Marco tossed in.

“No, it’ll be fine. I’ll keep a close eye on him and…and if I need you I’ll call you. Ok?”

“Ok, um, here’s the keys,” Roy said pulling Hank’s key ring out of his pocket. “I, uh…I hope he feels better soon.”

“Thank you, and uh…I really do appreciate you both for what you’ve done tonight,” she said as she walked them back to the front door.

“You’re welcome,” they replied in unison; both men stepping into the night wondering to themselves if they had actually done enough.

E!


	4. chapter 4

A House Divided – Hank’s Haunting

Chapter 4

Rebecca sat in the antique mahogany chair in their bedroom watching her husband sleep. She was afraid to leave him alone in case he got sick again and needed her help but she was also afraid to continue sitting with him as the night wore on. Past experience had given her good reason to be fearful; the reason still evident along her upper lip. She stretched her aching legs in front of her then pulled them up into the chair. Turning sideways, she leaned her head against the floral patterned cushion closing her eyes. At least she had gotten a short nap earlier in the day because this was shaping up to be a very long night.

E!

`~`~`~`~`~`

The roaring and popping noises continued to grow louder drowning out the voices of the firemen as they hustled from their rigs to the warehouse weaving a web of hoses in their wake. The noxious smell of the burning building weighted down by the water dousing the flames permeated his nostrils sticking to the back of his throat with each inhalation. He tightened his chin strap then gripped the microphone shouting orders above the dragon’s roar. She was in her death throws now and his heart began to swell with pride. Another beast was about to be vanquished by the knights in shining armor of the Los Angeles County Fire Department. He continued to issue orders when something seemed out of place. His hazel eyes scanned the scene searching for that which his brain couldn’t quite identify. He raised the microphone, keying it to issue the order to evacuate as his heart thudded inside his chest. He felt the hair along his arms and on the back of his neck stand up as his body prepared for fight or flight. He inhaled deeply and began his command for the men to evacuate when he heard and felt the dragon’s final assault against the men under his command. 

He flinched in response to the explosion instinctively burying his face in the crook of his turnout clad arm. Franticly, he began searching for them but no one was there. He surveyed the parking lot where there were engines and hoses…but no men. They were gone. All of them gone in an instant. 

Slamming the microphone back down in the seat of engine 51, Captain Stanley stepped down from the side of the rig as total rage consumed him. Without any additional equipment or plan of attack, he ran; he didn’t use his usual loping gallop but instead charged headlong at the structure. The only place his men could be was inside the belly of the beast and he was determined to get them back even if it meant shredding the building apart with his bare hands.

His skin was burning, his lungs protesting and his fingers stung as he pulled apart the flaming structure as if it were made of tinker toys. He heaved for air as he fought to dig inside to rescue his men from all three stations that had responded to the scene of which he was incident commander. “NO! Not on my watch!” He grunted, lifting another heavy metal pole searching for any signs of life beneath. Suddenly, he heard it; a faint weak sounding voice calling out his name.

“Hank.”

“I’m coming…hold on,” he mumbled when the voice reached his ears again, a little louder this time. But he also felt someone grabbing at his boots.

“HANK!”

His body trembled when he realized that it was Rebecca’s voice calling out to him from inside the fire. “Becca?”

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

“Hank, wake up, sweetheart,” she called out trying to jostle him by the foot so as to stay out of his reach.

“Becca! No!” He shouted as he shot up in bed, wild eyes searching about without seeing.

Rebecca backed up away from the bed in response to the suddenness of his movement. She hesitated, watching as he regained his sense of awareness. “Hank…you…you were dreaming, sweetheart.”

Hank looked at his surroundings. He was at home in his own bedroom with only the soft glow of a lamp emanating from the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed. He ran a shaky hand across his weary face feeling the scratchiness of his morning stubble. His eyes burned and his head was pounding as he looked around the room again for the source of the voice he’d heard in his sleep. “Becca?” He called out in a soft expectant voice.

“I’m here,” she responded.

His hazel eyes followed the sound and when they found what they were looking for, the struggling captain gasped in horror. There, huddled back into the antique chair was his wife. Her eyes were wide with fear and when he moved toward her slightly he watched her recoil. “Becca? Wha…what’s going on?”

“What do you remember?” She asked, her voice trembling as much as her body.

Once again, he looked around the room. The towel lying where his head had just been and the small plastic waste basket beside the bed triggered a memory that he wished he could forget. “I…I was at…at the bar…,” he began; his shoulders rounding as he slumped in defeat.

“Go on…what else?” She gently prodded, remaining a safe distance from him as she awaited a final determination on his level of alertness.

“I was in the bathroom, vomiting and,” he hesitated as he stared off into the distance between the two of them. “They…they were here weren’t they?”

“Who?” She asked, daring to slip a bit closer to him. Her arms ached to reach out to the only man she’d ever loved.

“Roy…Roy and Marco?” He vaguely remembered two of his men being present and thought he remembered Marco’s distinctive accent.

Rebecca stood up and closed the distance between them as she carefully sat down on the edge of the bed. “Yes…they were…they brought you home.”

Hank leaned his elbows on his knees but the pounding in his head only worsened. He sat back up daring to look at his wife. The lamplight glistened along the moisture pooling in her eyes. His own eyes darted around her face not sure of what he was searching for. She was beautiful in his eyes. Twenty years and two children hadn’t changed a thing about her appearance; not to him anyway. Her dress size may have gone up slightly and there were crow’s feet just beginning to make their presence known but she was still the same chestnut haired beauty he fell in love with in high school. But her eyes looked a bit haunted to him and as his gaze dropped a little lower, the slight swelling and bruising along her upper lip reached inside his chest, ripping out his heart and trampling his soul. “Ohmygod,” he began lifting a nervous hand slowly up to her cheek. His trembling fingers ran along her cheekbone whisking away the streaks of moisture her eyelids could no longer contain. Then he slowly brushed a calloused thumb along the bruising of her upper lip being careful not to put any pressure on it. “I…did I…” he couldn’t get the question out as guilt quickly stole his voice.

Rebecca couldn’t stop the flowing of her tears. She tilted her head to the side enjoying even the slightest feel of his touch then lowered it leaving her tears to drip from her chin onto her lap. She sniffled trying her best to compose herself but failing. “You, ah…you didn’t mean to…to do it,” she whimpered. It wasn’t your fault,” she finally managed to utter into the stillness of the night.

Hank struggled to breathe; vacillating between wanting to grab her and hold her tightly and yet not wanting to cause her any more pain. He tentatively reached across her shoulders waiting to see how she reacted before he made any more moves. When he felt her body relax and slowly melt into his embrace he pulled her in tightly against his chest. He felt her sobbing and heard her ragged breathing. He cupped his hand around the side of her head, entwining his fingers in her dark hair as he continued to hold her close. How could he have allowed things to get this far out of control? “Oh Becca, I’m so…so sorry for…,” he wheezed feeling his own body succumb to the gut wrenching sobs he’d been harboring near the surface. He would never forgive himself for hurting her. She was his life, his soul, the mother of his two beautiful girls and now he held her sobbing within his embrace - a broken woman shattered by the man she loved. Then another thought even more dire than this one ran through his mind. His girls…what might he have done to his girls?

“Nugh, uh…Missy and uh, Vickie?”

Rebecca understood his question even if he wasn’t able to clearly formulate it in his mind. “They got home a few hours ago from the skating rink. They, um…they’re upstairs so I…I don’t think they heard you…crying out.”

“But…have I…have I hurt them too?” He asked sounding more like a terrified little boy than a fire department captain.

Rebecca pulled back away from his chest looking deeply into his blood shot eyes. “No,” she crooned. “I don’t think they even realize what’s happening.”

He nodded his head, allowing his face to once again lean downward. He squeezed his eyes shut then scrubbed his palm down his face. “It…it um, won’t happen again…I promise,” he said with a gulp.

Her ears perked up immediately at the thought of him seeking out help without her pushing the issue. “You’ll…you mean, you’ll get some help?” She asked hopefully.

“I’m ah, I’m gonna make sure that I help you and the girls, Becca. I can’t subject you to this anymore and I promise I won’t let it continue.”

Alarm streaked across her face at the fatalistic tone in his voice. “Hank…what do you mean by that?”

“You three girls are more important to me than anything this world has to offer. I won’t allow my problems to hurt you…physically or emotionally…at least not anymore,” he tried to stand but felt the achiness in his joints and back – sure signs that he had become dehydrated during his binge the previous night. His grimace got an immediate reaction from his wife.

“Easy, please just lie back down. Whatever you need, I’ll get it for you,” she soothed, gently pushing his chest back as he lay against the pillows. 

“Away,” he whispered, heartbroken.

“A way to do what?” Rebecca asked not understanding his meaning.

“No…away…I need to get away…from you and the girls. It’s the only way I can know for sure that it won’t happen again.”

Rebecca couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What? You’d leave us before you saw a counselor?”

Hank’s headache was getting worse. “A counselor can’t help me. He can’t undo what I’ve done.”

“No…but maybe, just maybe he could make sure you don’t do it again,” she pleaded. “Please…don’t run away from this Hank? Don’t run away from US?”

He turned angry eyes at her. “I am NOT running away from us, Becca!” He growled at her. “I’m protecting you…protecting my family…something I should’ve done weeks ago and didn’t,” he said, turning away from her.

Rebecca sat there stunned at what she was hearing. Unfortunately, the family Hank was referring to wasn’t only the family made up of his wife and daughters. He was thinking about another family he had failed a few weeks earlier…a failure that was now haunting both his days as well as his nights.


	5. Chapter 5

Hank’s Haunting

Chapter 5

Hank backed his black sedan out of the driveway earlier than usual on Monday morning. He hadn’t gotten much rest the night before and most of Sunday had been spent arguing with his wife and upsetting their older daughter. He eased to a stop at the red traffic light as his mind drifted back to their most heated conversation from the previous day.

~`~`~`~`~`

“Please, Hank…don’t we mean anything to you?” Rebecca’s reddened eyes were swollen from the tears she had been shedding off and on most of the day.

Exasperatedly, Hank spun around with one hand on his hip and the other rubbing his forehead. “You and the girls mean everything to me! That’s why I’ve got to stay somewhere else until this passes. Why can’t you understand that?”

“Because running from whatever it is won’t make it go away,” she said harshly through gritted teeth. “It’ll keep chasing you and chasing you until one day…it catches you…then what, huh? Then what’ll you do?”

He paced the length of the living room rug; his mind spinning in a multitude of directions. “I don’t know…I don’t know, but one thing I do know for sure,” he looked over at her tear stained face. “I know I won’t hurt you again…nor the girls…I won’t…can’t let it happen again.”

Rebecca closed her eyes as defeat cradled her within its grasp. “Why? Why can’t you just swallow that damn pride of yours and go get some help?”

“You want me to see a head shrink?” He asked then continued on with his rant without giving her time to respond. “Oh that’s just brilliant, Becca. That’ll look real good on my personnel file with the department.” He waved his thin hand in the air in front of him as if he were reading a marquee. “Los Angeles County Fire Department Captain requires therapy after a fire,” he smirked. “Oh yea…that’ll look real good.”

“It looks better than Mom with a fat lip.”

Both Stanley adults turned quickly to see their older daughter, Missy, standing in the doorway. Her long brown hair parted in the middle and tucked neatly behind each ear. Her own hazel eyes, so much like her father’s, were brimming with tears. It was Hank who spoke first.

“How long have you been standing there, Missy?”

“Long enough to hear what you two are fighting about,” she answered crossing her arms nervously over her chest and staring down at the floor.

“We aren’t fighting, Missy.”

“Oh yea? Well what do you call it then, Mom? You’re yelling at Dad and he’s yelling at you and then he obviously hit you at some point over the last day or so,” she waved an open hand in Rebecca’s direction.

“Melissa Stanley, you watch your mouth, young lady.” Hank’s eyes were beginning to glare at his older daughter.

“Why don’t you watch yours,” she said turning on her heels. “Better yet, why don’t ya watch your fist,” she charged towards her room, hair flowing behind her. 

~`~`~`~`~`

The memory of the slamming sound of Melissa’s bedroom door startled Hank back into the present. Then he heard the sound of a horn honking and looked up to see that the light had turned green. 

E!

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Roy looked up from his plate of eggs and toast, realizing that Joanne was waiting for an answer. He reached for his cup of coffee with a forced grin. “Just thinking about this shift.”

“You’re really worried about them aren’t you?” It had been hard for Joanne to imagine the scene Roy had described to her when he had returned home Saturday night. 

“Yea…I can’t help it, Jo. If you’d seen Rebecca…,” his voice trailed off as he remembered the swelling and bruising along her upper lip and the excuse he and Johnny had heard too many times before when they had been dispatched to the scene of a domestic violence case.

Joanne clutched her white coffee cup within her interlaced fingers. She shifted in her seat sweeping one leg beneath her as she contemplated what she was about to say. “Roy…do you think…well, what if I call her and invite her to go out to lunch? Think maybe she’d talk to me?”

He reached his hand out and covered her left forearm. He waited for her worried green eyes to lock on to his equally concerned blue ones. “Honey…I appreciate that and I know you want to help but…I really don’t think she’d go out…not with her injury.”

Joanne reached across her body allowing her hand to rest softly on top of her husband’s, both relishing the gentle touch of the other. “I understand. But, if I can do anything…please, let me know how to help. I want to help.”

Roy leaned into his wife and their lips met. The kiss was soft but full of passion…then it was interrupted.

“Eww, gross!”

Roy leaned back rolling his eyes at his young daughter’s voice. “Good morning, Jennifer.”

“Morning, Daddy.”

“Are you hungry, sweetie?” Joanne asked already standing to prepare plates for both of her children knowing the school bus would be arriving in less than twenty minutes.

“I’m gonna head on in, Jo. Maybe I’ll have a chance to talk to him before shift starts.”

“Bye, Daddy.”

Roy patted his daughter on the head then swiftly kissed her cheek. He stood up, landing a quick kiss on Joanne’s cheek then headed for the front door. He saw his son trudging down the stairs. “Hustle up, Chris. Don’t wanna be late.”

“Bye, Dad,” came the sleepy response accented by a yawn as Chris made his way to the kitchen table.

E!

Across town, Marco finished his breakfast and stood up, placing his plate in the sink and swallowing the last bit of coffee before setting the cup on the dirty plate. He felt a familiar arm wrap around his waist and turned into the comforting embrace of his mother. “Gracious, Mama.”

“Do not worry so much, my son,” Mrs. Lopez said softly, pulling him tight against her ample right hip. 

Marco had spent the previous day with his mother as he so often did on his Sunday’s off. They had talked well into the night about his concerns for his captain. He knew that whatever he told her would be kept in the strictest confidence and for that he was grateful. 

“You should’ve seen him though,” he began again, his mind taking him back to the Stanley residence on Sunday night. “He was just so…I don’t know…not Cap.”  
Mrs. Lopez eyed her son smiling at his handsome features. “One never knows what goes on behind closed doors, Marco.”

He looked down at her, draping his left arm over her shoulders and leaning down until their heads lightly touched. “Then you think maybe he really did do it?”

“It’s not for me to say. I am not his judge…and neither are you,” she reminded.

“I know, Mama. But if he did do it then something must be terribly wrong.”

“Perhaps it is a sickness you do not know of,” she began, pulling back from him and staring into his dark eyes. 

“What kind of sickness makes you hurt the ones you love…unless it’s,” he gulped. “Unless he’s drinking too much.”

She smiled warmly at her son knowing that there were many types of sickness that could cause the situation he had described the previous night. “He might be sick in his mind or sick in his soul…not all sickness is of the body.”

Marco leaned down, kissing his mother quickly on her forehead. “You are a wise woman. I love you, Mama.”

“I love you too, Marco. Have a safe shift and…stay focused on that which you can change…not on that which can only be changed by another.”

A grin spread beneath his mustache as a warmth spread throughout his soul. He reached down, retrieving his duffle bag from the sofa and headed out the door. He didn’t know how he was going to face his captain now that he knew of the older man’s personal troubles. But deep inside his heart of hearts, he knew he had to do something to help him, not   
only for Hank’s sake but the sake of his family as well.

E!

Hank parked his car and made his way inside the back door of the station. He greeted the C-shift engineer who was standing behind the station enjoying the cool morning sipping on a fresh cup of coffee.

“You’re here early,” the younger man said with a nod.

“Thought I’d give your captain a break in case he’s had enough of you guys for a few days,” Hank chuckled back hoping his explanation was enough to satisfy the curious man. He stepped into the locker room long enough to deposit his personal effects and fresh uniforms into his locker then circled through and stepped out the dorm doorway on his way to the captain’s office. 

Captain Hookraider was just finishing up his morning routine when he heard footsteps he recognized stepping up to the open office door. “Hank?” He glanced down at his watch. “You’re almost an hour early.”

“Well, I was awake and didn’t want to disturb the Stanley girls so I thought I’d come on in.” At least it wasn’t a total lie. “I’ll take over whenever you’re ready to leave.”

“Sounds good to me,” he began pushing back from the desk. “Had a pretty rough shift; out most of the night. We just got back in about two hours ago. I hope your men won’t   
mind doing the clean-up on the rigs.”

“Nah, you know we’ll take care of it. We’re a team aren’t we?”

Captain Hookraider chuckled to himself as he patted his relief on the shoulder and stepped out of the office. “Safe shift, Hank. And I do appreciate the extra time off,” he said with a wink.

E!

Roy turned on his blinker preparing to make the left turn into the station just as Captain Hookraider pulled out onto 223rd St. He knew that meant that Hank had already arrived and relieved the man of his post. Hopefully, he‘d have time to talk to him before the rest of the crew arrived. He grabbed his duffle bag from the passenger’s seat of his Porsche then walked briskly past the engineer who still stood behind the building sipping his morning coffee. 

“Mornin’ Roy.”

“Morning, did I see your Captain leaving just now?” Roy already knew the answer but he was hoping the exhausted looking engineer might offer a bit more information.

“Yea…yours got here early.”

“Good, that’ll give me a chance to talk to him. Thanks, man,” Roy said rushing off to the locker room to change clothes. 

The C-shift engineer finished his coffee, tossing the remnants over the back wall. As he turned around, he saw a burgundy Buick he recognized turning into the drive. He stood at the wall giving Marco a slight nod of his head as he waited for the lineman to exit. 

“What’s with you guys this morning?”

Marco glanced up in confusion as he pulled the strap of his bag over his shoulder. “What’s that?”

“Half of A-shift is here early,” the engineer exclaimed. “Of course, my relief would be in the other half this morning,” he snickered.

Marco looked around noting that Hank’s and Roy’s cars were already in the parking lot. “Mike is always early,” he began as he turned toward the locker room. “He’ll be here soon to relieve you,” he tossed over his shoulder with a forced grin. His chest was already feeling tight as he wondered if Roy had decided to come in early for a chance to talk to their captain too.

Roy was tying his shoes when the latrine door suddenly opened and Marco walked in. Their eyes met and both knew exactly what the other was thinking. “You’re early too, huh?”  
Marco pulled open the door of his locker and began undressing. “Yes…give me a minute to get my uniform on and I’ll go with you. I really want to get this over with,” he groaned.  
Hank had left the door to the office open as he went to pour himself a cup of coffee. He was going to need all the caffeine he could get to make it through the next twenty-four hours. He spoke cordially to the remaining members of C-shift who sat around the kitchen table waiting for their A-shift counterparts to arrive. He poured himself a cup of coffee then began making another pot for his own crew whom he knew would be arriving soon. Once that task was completed, he stepped quickly through the doorway, blowing a cooling breath across his cup as he stepped back into his office.

He stopped suddenly, nearly spilling the burning liquid on his chest with the abrupt movement. He drew his bushy eyebrows into his hairline. “What are you two doing here so early?”

Roy and Marco exchanged a quick glance. “We, ah… we wanted to talk to you before shift,” Roy said nervously.

“Ok, so talk,” Hank said nudging his way between his two men and taking his seat at the olive colored desk. His gut tightened knowing where the conversation was likely headed.

“Are you ok, Cap?”

Hank looked at his lineman with one eyebrow raised. “Yes, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, you…um, you weren’t feeling so well when we saw you last,” Roy stammered.

“Well, as you can see I’m fine now so save your paramedic skills for the field, eh Pal?” Hank shuffled papers on his desk hoping his two men would take the hint and leave him alone.

“Cap, it doesn’t take a paramedic to know that something is wrong with you.” Marco bit his lower lip knowing he was pushing the limits with his superior.

Hank slowly spun the chair around to face his two men who were still standing near the doorway. He leaned his head back slowly narrowing his eyes, giving them both a cold stare that made them shift nervously. “DeSoto?”

“Yes sir?”

Hank clenched his teeth together, flexing his jaw muscles as he fought to restrain himself. “Shut the damn door.”


	6. chapter 6

Warning: language 

Hank’s Haunting – 6

Roy turned and did as he was told, closing the door firmly until he heard the clicking sound that let him know it was secure. He didn’t want anyone outside the captain’s office overhearing the impending conversation. When he turned back around he noted that his superior’s face was growing red. They locked eyes only briefly although the uneasiness between them made the fleeting moment seem to linger for an eternity.

“Ahem, now why don’t you both take a seat,” he ordered.

Roy and Marco didn’t dare look at each other. Instead, they complied with the somewhat forceful request. 

Hank waited for the two men to be seated and allowed the silence to make their discomfort grow. Finally, he spoke up. “Marco, you were saying?”

Marco glanced up into hazel eyes of fury. He gulped feeling the heat from Hank’s stare as the older man leaned forward slightly. “Um, yes sir. Ah, we,” he stammered flicking his hand between himself and Roy. “We could tell you, um…well, you just weren’t yourself Saturday night and we were wondering if…if you were alright.”

Hank leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “Does that go for you too, DeSoto?”

“Yes sir, it does.” Roy could see the relief on Marco’s face as soon as he acknowledged their agreement.

“So, let me get this straight. The two of you think that I have some sort of personal problem just because I might’ve had a bit too much to drink Saturday night? Is that it?” Hank’s head moved slightly from side to side as he looked both his men in the eyes.

“We’re not judging you, Cap but it is very unusual for you to drink in excess,” Marco responded.

Hank drew his eyebrows into a ‘V’ as he stared disbelievingly at his lineman. “For your information, not that I have to answer to you, Lopez, I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong whatsoever!” Hank assumed an overly relaxed posture, palms turned upward.

“And what about Mrs. Stanley? Is she fine too?” Roy was taken aback by his own brazenness but he didn’t regret asking the question. 

Hank stiffened his neck at the mention of his wife. “Of course. Why wouldn’t she be?” Hank knew exactly what his paramedic meant by the question and he was determined to correct the younger man’s thinking.

“Uh, she had a…a bruise and a swollen lip. I offered to take a look at…”

“Don’t you think I’d know if my own wife needed medical attention?” Hank stood up then and towered over his subordinate not giving him a chance to answer the question. “I may not be a paramedic, DeSoto but I damn sure know how to take care of my family so don’t you EVER waltz back into my office and make such accusations against me again.” Hank leaned over resting one hand on the arm of Roy’s chair while the other landed firmly on his right hip while he intentionally invaded the paramedic’s personal space. “Do. You. Understand?”

“Cap, we just…” Marco tried to intervene but was quickly cut off by his snarling captain.

“Dismissed, Lopez!” Hank said in a raised voice, eyes locked with those of his senior paramedic.

“Cap, please just let…” Marco began but was once again interrupted.

“I. said. DISMISSED!” Hank stood up to his full height pointing towards the door.

Marco gulped as he looked over at his friend. He hated leaving Roy alone to face their captain in this situation but he had been given his orders. Slowly, he stood up and turned towards the door. He hesitated for a moment wanting to say more but instead he walked out of the office and stood with both elbows leaning against the front fender of the squad trying to catch his breath.

Inside the office, Roy squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t know what kind of a stunt you’re trying to pull here but it better end now or you’ll face disciplinary action. Do I make myself clear?”

Roy inhaled deeply. “You’d reprimand me for being concerned about you and your family?”

“No, but I will reprimand you for accusing me of mistreating Becca. I won’t stand for that. Just because we seem to get toned out every time some drunken fool decides to beat up the missus doesn’t mean that’s what happened between Becca and me Saturday night. I did NOT harm her Saturday night. I love my wife so why would I hurt her? Now, there will be no more talk of this shit or you will face the repercussions. Got it, DeSoto?”

Roy set his jaw in place biting his teeth together firmly. Hank had just answered his question without even realizing it. Now, he had to find a way to help the Stanley’s. “Yes. Sir.”  
“Dismissed,” Hank said running a hand across his dry lips as he watched his senior paramedic leave the office. He stood for a moment trembling as he stared at the half opened office door. This had to end now before Roy and Marco spread their rumor to the point that the L.A. County Fire Department head shed heard about it. He had enough problems to deal with without adding the judgmental inquiries of the department’s top brass. He shuddered at the thought of facing Chief McConnike in such an investigation, envisioning the smug look on the older man’s face.

Mike walked out of the kitchen with a cup of fresh coffee smiling as Pete, the C-shift engineer, hurriedly left the station. He turned to his left and noticed Marco leaning against the squad. Worriedly, he picked up the pace to check on his friend just as Roy stepped out of Hank’s office. He couldn’t help but notice how red-faced the paramedic was and immediately wondered what was going on.

“You fellas alright?”

Both men looked up at their engineer but neither had time to answer before another deep voice answered for them.

“They’re fine, Michael. But I need to see you in my office for a moment, please.”

Mike threw a concerned expression to his two shift mates before turning to face his captain. “Sure, Cap.”

As soon as the office door was closed, Roy blew out his breath then assumed a mirrored stance to Marco.

“So what happened?” Marco questioned knowing the answer wasn’t going to be a good one.

Roy looked up with a mixture of worry and anger swirling around his features. “He threatened to reprimand me if I continued to accuse him of hurting Mrs. Stanley.”

“He what?” Marco felt his own blood beginning to boil. “How can he do that? What happened has nothing to do with your job, man.”

“I know but think about it. Neither one of us accused him of anything other than getting drunk, hardly the unpardonable sin. We never said anything about him hurting her. All I did was mentioned her injuries and asked if she was ok?” Roy cut his eyes over at the closed office door then back to his friend. “He emphasized that he didn’t hurt her Saturday night,” Roy continued. “He specifically said Saturday night but she was already bruised when we got him home.”

Understanding crept across the lineman’s face. “So, technically he isn’t lying is he?”

Roy merely nodded glancing down at his feet as Marco put all the pieces together in his mind. 

“Roy?”

Roy looked up at his friend then stood up straighter leaning one hip against the squad while he waited for Marco to complete his thought.

“He really did do it, didn’t he?”

E!

“Mike, you know that I…I trust you; count on you to be in charge any time when I can’t, right?”

Mike had no idea where the conversation was going but it was making him feel uncomfortable. He felt a wave of warmth spreading upwards from his chest around his neck. “Yes, 

sir.”

“I need for you to, uh, keep an ear out for something, will ya, Pal?” Hank tried to speak with his kindest voice. He had to keep his temper in check and make sure that Mike couldn’t tell he was on the verge of losing it.

“For what?” 

By his expression, Hank knew that Roy and Marco had not told Mike anything yet and for that he was grateful. “I, well, I’m sure you’ll hear about it soon enough. I’m not proud of myself but…I went to Embers Saturday afternoon and…well, I had a little too much to drink and…uh, Marco and Roy drove me home.”

Mike managed to resist the urge to blurt out a sarcastic ‘is that all?’ Instead, he opted for a more appropriate response to his captain. “I’m sorry to hear that, Cap. I’m glad they were there with you though.” Mike felt the hair on the back of his neck standing. Something was amiss but he had no idea what it could be. He’d driven several men home from Embers himself so it certainly wasn’t unusual.

“Yea well, I’m not. Sorry bas…,” Hank stopped himself realizing that the man standing before him was also a crew mate. “They’re out blabbing it to the whole world and,” he hesitated for a moment as an idea crept into his mind. “Have you ever played that kid’s game called Grapevine or something like that?” Hank asked with a frivolous toss of his hand.

Mike drew his eyebrows together in confusion at the sudden change in the conversation. “The one where you sit in a circle and whisper something in someone’s ear; then they pass it on to the next person and you see how different it is when it gets around the whole circle?”

“Yea, that’s the one. What I just told you is the absolute truth, I swear it. Now, if you hear that anything else happened that night…well, it’ll be an exaggerated version of that truth so you’ll let me know won’t you?”

Mike shifted uneasily. He didn’t like his captain pulling him into the middle of whatever was happening between the three men and he certainly didn’t want to be put into the position of a snitch. He couldn’t imagine either of his crew mates actually doing what their superior was standing here accusing them of doing. Johnny, maybe. Chet, definitely. Marco and Roy? Not a chance. Mike chose his words very carefully. “Cap, if I hear any kind of falsehood, I’ll let you know and I’ll put a stop to it myself.”  
Hank breathed a sigh of relief as he patted his engineer on the shoulder. “Thanks, Mike. I knew I could count on you.” He took a couple of steps towards the door. “Get the men ready for roll call, will ya?”

Mike turned slowly to leave but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He spun back around to look into the face of his captain; a face that had aged ten years in the last couple of weeks. 

“Uh, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful with what I’ve said. I mean, I do appreciate the fact that I got home safely and didn’t have an accident or anything but,”

Mike watched as a myriad of emotions seemed to play across Hank’s face like a kaleidoscope. “But?” He asked urging his captain to continue.

“Well, never mind,” Hank replied with a forced smile. “I just don’t want the word to get around that one of 51’s captain’s has a…a problem. Know what I mean?”

Mike nodded as Hank slapped him on the back and escorted him to the door closing it quickly as his engineer left. He then leaned his back against the door and stared up at the ceiling. With all the training he had received over the years, how could he have made such a crucial mistake? Furthermore…how was he going to correct it?

Hank returned to his desk where he sorted through and attached the memos to his clipboard, composed himself as best he could, then walked out his office door. Just as he took his place in front of the line of only four men, he heard the latrine door open and saw his younger paramedic loping into place, still trying to fasten his belt.

“Ahem, glad you could join us, Gage.”

Johnny looked appropriately remorseful. “Sorry, Cap.”

“Men, this is Sanford Mullins,” Hank announced gesturing at the dark blonde young man who stood between Roy and the late arriving Johnny. Sandy is new to the county department but has a few years of firefighting experience from down in San Diego. He’ll be filling in for Chet until he returns.” Hank walked dutifully along the line of men, noting that neither Roy nor Marco would make eye contact. 

“Sandy, this is my engineer, Mike Stoker. Lineman, Marco Lopez. Paramedics Roy DeSoto and John Gage.”

After the introductions, Hank read over the memos then doled out the chore assignments. “Mike, you have the day room. Marco, you have kitchen duty. Make sure you clean the stove, oven and the refrigerator too.”

Marco frowned knowing that the added duties were because of his earlier conversation with their captain.

“Johnny, you and Sandy have dorms. Show him which bunk he’ll have while he’s here.”

Johnny couldn’t hide his confusion. He knew that he should have rightfully been given latrine duty because of his near tardiness. He looked over at his partner knowing that he was the only man left who could be assigned the dreaded duty and saw the frustrated look on his partner’s face.

“Roy, you’ve got latrines. Make them sparkle. Dismissed.”

Hank stood watch as the men made their way to their assignments. He saw the look on Johnny’s face and knew he was about to ask Roy why he’d been assigned latrines. “John, get a move on.” He waited for Johnny to step away followed by Sandy. He then turned to his other paramedic. “Roy?”

Roy immediately felt his spine stiffen at the sound of Hank’s voice calling out to him. 

“Do your inventory checks and morning calibrations on the squad before you hit the latrines.”

“Yes sir,” Roy struggled to say trying to calm his raging nerves.

“Let me get Sandy started and I’ll help ya,” Johnny called out, having still been close enough to hear Hank’s order.

“He can do it, John. You and Sandy get the dorms.” Hank was determined to keep Johnny away from Roy long enough for Roy to understand just how precarious his situation was at the moment. He hoped that by the time he finished with Roy, the younger man would understand that Hank meant business about the reprimand. Still, he knew how close his paramedics were, both on duty and off so he stepped back enough to give Roy room to work while making sure the paramedic counted everything correctly. Primarily, he needed to keep an eye on Roy to make sure he remained alone while he contemplated his next move – how to convince Johnny that what his partner and best friend was going to tell him was a lie.

E!


	7. chapter 7

Hank’s Haunting – 7

Roy continued his efforts to complete morning checks on the squad under the glare of his captain who stood only a few feet away. He dared not look up at the man for fear his own temper might explode; something he was normally able to keep hidden from everyone – even his family – but at the moment he was struggling with it. He could feel his hands trembling as he pulled open the drug box and began his counting. He didn’t even realize he was biting the inside of his lip until he tasted his own blood. He stopped amid his counting and began again; his mind wandering away from the task at hand as Roy began thinking about reasons why the man who stood over him would behave so out of character.

Hank crossed his arms staring down at his senior paramedic. He could see the younger man struggling and knew his words and his presence were having the desired effect. But his heart began a silent argument with his brain, chastising him. How could a fire captain create such negativity around the station; a station whose occupants needed to be at their best in order to help the citizens of the county when their lives were at their worst? Before the contemplation was completed, the tones sounded calling out the station to a traffic accident and offering both men a bit of a reprieve from their personal battle.

E!

He stood in front of her apartment door knocking, trying to calm his nerves. She needed his help with her daughter and Chet was determined to assist the pretty young mother even though his experience with children was rather limited. After all, how hard could it be to take care of such a little person? He heard movement inside the apartment and the clicking of the locking mechanism being disengaged. 

“Morning, Chet.”

He peeked inside and saw that Caroline was dressed and ready to go to her appointment but she was holding a very sleepy pajama-clad toddler in her arms. He couldn’t stop the grin from overwhelming his mustached face. “Morning…and good morning to you too, ladybug.”

Corrie grinned at the man she had grown to adore in a very short time but continued to keep her head resting on her mother’s left shoulder; she was no hurry to relinquish her position on her mother’s hip. Caroline stepped back allowing Chet to enter the apartment while the child became more alert.

“There’s coffee made and I’ve got some pastries on the counter as well. Please make yourself at home,” Caroline offered as she returned to the sofa to hold Corrie just a few more minutes hoping the toddler would warm up a little more to the man she affectionately called ‘Mizzer Fet.’ She began rubbing circles along her daughter’s back and speaking to her in a soft voice. Her heart warmed as it always did in the presence of Chet. Watching him in her kitchen made her miss a man’s presence even more. She also noticed that his limp seemed to be completely gone and knew that he’d be going back to work soon. For that, she was thankful knowing that he would be back out in the county doing what he loved.

“Corrie, Mr. Chet is going to stay with you until Momma gets back from her doctor’s appointment, ok?” She hesitated hoping she wouldn’t have to coax the child out of her arms. When Corrie laid her head against her mother’s chest, Caroline looked apologetically at her friend.

Chet poured himself a cup of black coffee, grimacing as he remembered his last cup of coffee in Caroline’s apartment then chuckled slightly to himself. Although Mr. Marx had originally seemed to despise Chet, he had eventually come around by the end of the party….and after a healthy tongue lashing from his wife. Chet peeked inside the pink pastry box and pulled out a powdered donut then silently smiled when he heard the pitter patter of little bare feet running around the bar in his direction. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw a pair of dark eyes peeking at him intently from around the corner of the bar. Taking a huge bite of the donut, he made sure that the powdered sugar stuck to his mustache. After washing the bite of donut down with a sip of coffee, he turned around grinning at his tiny admirer.

“Ahh…haahaa,” she squealed pointing up at the silly looking Irishman. “Monk.”

Caroline couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of the fearless fireman with the sugar coated mustache. “No sweetie, that isn’t milk. That’s sugar,” she said fighting the giggles that had overwhelmed her daughter as well as Chet.

“Oh, is something wrong, ladybug? Did Mr. Chet make a mess with his donut?” Chet asked edging closer to the chuckling child.

“Corrie, be good for Mr. Chet,” Caroline called out as she pulled her purse onto her shoulder. She had been concerned she might feel uneasy leaving her daughter with a man as a babysitter but as she watched the two interacting and giggling, those concerns dissipated like the fog on that long ago fateful morning when their three lives became forever intertwined. This was the man who had saved her daughter’s life. If she couldn’t trust Chester B. Kelly with her daughter then who could she trust? 

“Chet, she usually just eats a banana or something when she first wakes up. She isn’t much of a breakfast eater. I should be back by 10:30 as long as my therapy doesn’t take too long. I’ll be at Rampart on the…,” she began but Chet held up his hand to stop her.

“I know, Caroline. We’ll be just fine until you get back so take your time. And…try not to worry,” he said with a genuine smile. He could tell she was nervous about leaving Corrie with him and he didn’t want her to be so concerned about what was happening at home that she didn’t get the full benefit of her physical therapy. 

Caroline looked back and saw Corrie standing beside her rescuer hugging his left leg. The child truly did feel comfortable around him and with a renewed lightness in her step, Caroline walked out of the apartment knowing that her most precious treasure was in good hands. 

E!

Mike weaved the long engine between the rows of cars that were positioned haphazardly along the freeway. Roy had easily maneuvered the squad to the scene but the engine took much more time and a greater level of skill. By the time he pulled the rig to a stop, Roy and Johnny were already donning their turnouts.

“Station 51 on scene. Get me an ETA on law enforcement.” Hank requested as his crew dismounted the engine and joined their comrades from the squad. 

“10-4, 51…standby,” Sam Lanier replied.

At that moment, blue lights and a wailing siren announced the approaching assistance. While Hank cancelled his request for an ETA, Roy called out for assistance.

“Gonna need the jaws on this one; she’s wedged in here tight.” He had pulled open the passenger’s door of a blue sports car and was trying to assess his semiconscious victim and keep her calm. The dash seemed to have melted around her legs.

Marco had already heard the request and he and his temporary partner went to work retrieving the extrication tools. 

Hank had seen Johnny heading over to the white utility van that was clearly the cause of the accident. It was tilted onto its driver’s side with the unconscious driver lying against the door; his face a bloody mess.

“Hey, mister?” Johnny called out while trying to find a way to get inside. “Mister can ya hear me?”

Hank quickly ran past Vince who was positioning his police car to maintain crowd control while he waited for back-up. “Whatcha got, John?”

Johnny struggled to pull back on the windshield that was hanging loosely on the upper left corner. As soon as he had enough of an opening, he began to climb in. “Not sure, Cap. Head injury it looks like; he hasn’t moved.”

“Alright, whatcha need?” Hank asked picking up his HT.

“Backboard and neck brace for sure,” Johnny answered, carefully climbing inside the crumpled front seat. “I’ll let ya know what else as soon as I can get to him.”

“HT 51 to engine 51,” Hank called out to his engineer.

“Engine 51, go ahead, Cap.” Mike had barely heard the radio transmission over the loud roar of the jaws of life.

“Bring us a backboard and neck brace,” he barked out commandingly.

“Backboard and neck brace, 10-4.” Mike dropped the microphone and began pulling out the requested items.

Johnny slipped inside the tight opening, squatting down sideways in an effort to get close enough to his victim to check him out. He used his teeth to remove his thick gloves then slid two fingers around the victim’s neck in search of a pulse. His hand was coated in sticky blood as he searched in vain for the life affirming flutter beneath his fingertips. 

“C’mon, man. At least give us a chance,” the paramedic mumbled as he continued to search for some sign of life. Finally, he leaned over far enough to reach the opposite side of the victim’s head and walked his fingers down below his ear where Johnny’s fingers fumbled around a very large piece of metal and glass protruding from the victim’s neck. The side mirror had shattered on impact and sent a jagged section inside the open window impaling the driver’s jugular vein. His life had quickly gushed from his body as his heart gave its final quiver long before Station 51 had arrived on scene. 

Johnny’s shoulders slumped in defeat and despair. He hated it when he lost a patient, even if that patient never had a chance in the first place. It was a hazard of the job but one to which he never grew accustomed. He blew out a breathy sigh then looked up at his superior leaning his face in the opening with questioning eyes. Johnny merely shook his head.

“Mike and I will get him covered, John. Go see what you can do to help Roy.” Hank hated to see the looks on the faces of his men when they lost one. They all took their jobs of protecting L.A. County’s citizens extremely seriously and for that he was very proud. He stepped back extending a hand to his paramedic and helping him out of the carnage. He patted the young man on the shoulder then watched him head off in the other direction. Hank looked up giving Mike a nod that the engineer recognized. He returned the backboard to the engine and pulled out a yellow blanket knowing what was waiting for him in the wreckage.

As soon as Mike jogged up to him, Hank reached out for the blanket his engineer was holding. “Fella bled out from a puncture wound to his jugular.”

“I’m sorry, Cap. Let’s get him covered fast. I think Roy’s got a bad one over there,” Mike said tilting his head to his left. 

Hank and Mike spread the blanket out as best they could to cover the body until the coroner arrived. They tucked the ends of the blanket beneath pieces of the vehicle to prevent the wind from blowing it back revealing the unpleasant result of the accident to the bystanders who were beginning to gather in spite of the police officers’ efforts to hold them back. As soon as that task was completed, Hank stood back up quickly…then stumbled against the roof of the van as his world faded from misty gray to black.

Mike saw Hank’s body beginning to crumble as he leaned unsteadily against the upturned vehicle. Instinctively, he reached out supporting his captain and easing him to the ground. “Cap?”

“Uh, M-Mike, I…,” he mumbled wincing at the throbbing in his head.

“Take it easy, Cap. Lemme get Johnny to come take a look at you,” he said as he continued supporting Hank while the older man slowly sank to a seated position.

“No, no…victim firs’…I, I jus’ stood up too quickly ‘s all,” he groaned, blinking his eyes exaggeratedly. “Gimme a sec, uh, second an’ I’ll be a’right.”

“They’ve almost got her out; we’d just be in the way at this point,” Mike said softly feeling a sense of relief that the extrication didn’t require additional manpower. 

Mike continued to kneel beside his superior as the older man’s vision cleared and he regained his level of alertness. Mike had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that this minor case of syncope had more to do with the private conversation between Roy, Marco and Hank than with Hank standing up too quickly. He looked back over his shoulder to the place where the rest of the crew were carefully strapping their victim to the backboard, relieved at the echo of an ambulance siren in the background. He then returned his attention to Hank who was quickly regaining his normal coloring and trying to stand.

“Whoa, Cap. Just rest a minute,” he encouraged pressing lightly on the older man’s shoulder.

“I’m fine now. Like I said, I just stood up too fast. That’s all.” Hank looked over at his engineer while trying to smile. “Besides, there’s still one we can save,” he said replacing his helmet. “And I’m not going to stand by and let her die too.”

E!

Chet leaned his face into the kitchen sink and splashed water onto his mustache in an attempt to clean off the powdered sugar. With a few drops remaining, he turned to the curious toddler anchored to his leg. He leaned down closer to her face then shook his head from side to side like a waterlogged dog. The squealing laughter that resulted from those few droplets hitting Corrie in the face sounded more beautiful than a symphony to Chet’s ears. He laughed along with the little miracle herself. 

“You like that, ladybug?”

“Do-gin, do-gin,” she asked in her tiny laughing voice.

Without hesitation, he quickly complied and once again showered a few droplets along the child’s innocent face. He then smiled at her as her pudgy fingers wiped the residue off her nose. “Ok, does Mr. Chet still have monk on his mustache?” He asked mimicking the child’s word for milk.

She reached up, clearly wanting to be held and as soon as Chet had her in his arms, she reached out and softly patted his mustache. “Aw queen,” she announced.

“I’m all clean?”

“Uh-hu,” she agreed, accented by a nod of her still mused up golden brown bedhead hair.

“What do you want to do now?” He asked, feeling a bit overly confident.

“Hongee,” she said with a giggle.

“Are you hungry, ladybug?” He asked, remembering Caroline’s instructions that Corrie would only want a banana or something light to eat for breakfast.

“Uh-hu,” she confirmed.

“You want a banana?” He asked moving closer to the fruit bowl.

Corrie shook her head negatively sending Chet’s stomach flipping with a hint of concern. He quickly looked around for something else healthy for a three year old to eat. Seeing nothing within reach, he decided that filling her belly was more important than nutrition for the next couple of hours and reached for the pastry box.

“You want a donut?”

Again, the defiant tyke shook her head. “Monkey chairs!” 

Her squealing voice pierced Chet’s ears causing him to scrunch up his shoulders and close his eyes. His blue eyes darted around the kitchen looking for something but not sure what. “Monkey chairs?” He questioned, his face a display of confusion.

“Uh-hu, monkey chairs,” she affirmed reaching out once again to pat his mustache.

Chet set her down and began opening cabinets looking for something with a monkey on it. He browsed past cereal boxes, hamburger helper, a bag of rice and cans of various foods but found nothing that could possibly be referred to as a monkey chair. He then opened the refrigerator door hoping there was something in there to appease the child.  
Corrie watched her new friend move away from the cabinets and opening the refrigerator door. “Nooo, monkey chairs, Mizzer Fet. Monkey chairs!”

Chet’s level of frustration was growing along with Corrie’s wails. She tried her best to help him understand what she wanted but he simply didn’t speak her language. “Ladybug, I’m sorry but I don’t know what you mean.” He looked around at the kitchen clock and realized that if he didn’t figure this out soon the next hour and a half were going to be miserable for them both. 

Finally, Corrie stomped her little bare foot against the tile floor and walked over to the stove. She pointed her tiny finger upwards to the cabinet Chet had just been rummaging through. “Monkey chairs.”

“Sweetheart, there’s nothing up there like that,” he answered. He watched Corrie’s bottom lip begin to quiver and large tears were soon dangling from her long eyelashes. His heart couldn’t stand it and out of sheer frustration he picked her up and stood her on the counter top. He opened up the cabinet to which she had been pointing. “Ok, ok…are the monkey chairs in here?”

Corrie sniffled a little then giggled as she reached out for the red box of cereal. Chet pulled it from the shelf and she quickly hugged it tightly to her chest. “Mon-key cha-irs,” she hiccupped amid giggling sobs.

Chet looked at the red box of cereal with the leprechaun on the front. “Lucky Charms,” he mumbled to himself as he pulled down a bowl. “Geesh, I’m worse than Gage…I can’t even understand three year old women!”

E!


	8. chapter 8

Hank’s Haunting – 8

Hank stood straighter willing the dizziness to dissipate, still feeling Mike’s supportive arm at his elbow. His tired eyes scanned the scene of destruction before him. Beside him was the overturned van with its lone occupant deceased inside, the man’s family unaware of his demise. Along the perimeter of his clearing vision throngs of people were gathered with bulging eyes and hands covering their gaping mouths, engrossed in the macabre site. In front of him, four men under his command were removing a female victim from a tangled mass of twisted blue metal and shattered glass. His eyes lingered a little longer on his senior lineman and senior paramedic and his heart leaped inside his throat nearly choking him. They were performing their duties perfectly in spite of the way he had treated them earlier. For the first time, he realized that the way he had handled the situation back at the station might have been wrong. The young woman being carried on the backboard was obviously in pain; a fact his groggy mind registered as victorious as only the living can experience such a sensation. His men had done their jobs well and hopefully she would survive this melee. But what if Roy had been distracted by Hank’s earlier tongue lashing….no, his outright threat? What if Marco had slipped with the jaws of life because of the distraction caused by his captain? What if Glenda hadn’t stopped him from driving home Saturday night? He could have caused a similar accident; one that could just as easily have left him covered by a yellow blanket inside a crumpled mass of automobile….or worse. And, what if his recent actions left him without a loving wife and daughters to go home to after this shift ended? These thoughts swirled around inside his mind causing his entire world to blur and spin then he felt the steadying hand of his second in command gripping him tighter.

Roy continued his efforts to reassure his patient while his shift mates assisted in removing her from the wreckage.

"We’re going to take very good care of you, miss. Just try to relax for me, alright?” Roy looked up at the other three men holding onto the backboard. “Take it slow and easy, fellas. On three…one, two, three.”

The lift was smooth even though Sandy had never worked with this group before. He obviously was very professional and well-trained. The group moved as one unit towards the squad where they gently set her down, Roy’s stethoscope dangling around his neck swinging above his patient as she was lowered to the asphalt. Her eyes squeezed shut from a combination of emotions to which her only verbal response was a guttural primal whimper. Marco and Sandy removed the needed equipment from the squad, passing the drug box to Roy and the biophone to Johnny.

Roy began a more thorough assessment while Johnny made contact with Rampart.

“Rampart, this is squad 51…how do you read,” he called out cradling the black handset between his ear and shoulder as he retrieved his notebook and green pen from his shirt pocket.

“Loud and clear, 51.”

Roy continued his ministrations clicking his penlight off and returning it to his shirt pocket. “BP is 140/88, pulse is 100, pupils equal and reactive, no sign of head injury, respirations 22 and shallow.” He looked back down as his patient released a pitiful groan.

Johnny wrote down the vitals his partner was rattling off to him then repeated them to Dr. Early, the moaning of his patient pushed to the back of his mind.

“Umgh.”

“I know it hurts. My partner’s on the phone with the hospital right now. We’re talking to a doctor and he’s going to tell us what to do to help you. My name’s Roy and the fellow on the phone is John. What’s your name?”

“Be,” she began then licked her lips desperately trying to keep them from sticking to each other. “Betty.”

Relief quickly filled Marco’s soul when he realized that their victim had answered the first of the usual three questions used for orientation purposes. His eyes lifted up from the semiconscious woman when he heard the sound of a familiar Mayfair siren growing closer. Then, he saw a sight that made his heart skip a beat.

“10-4, Rampart. IV, lactated Ringers….,” 

The sound of Johnny’s voice repeating his orders faded as Marco saw Mike steadying their captain allowing the older man to lean against him for support. Marco tapped his partner’s arm keeping his eyes focused on the duo slowly moving towards the emergency vehicles. 

“Go give Mike a hand. I can help out here,” Marco requested knowing he had manned the biophone plenty of times and he still wasn’t sure of the extent of their victim’s injuries.

Sandy looked in the same direction as Marco then immediately jogged over to Hank’s other side. “Sir, what happened?”

“Stood up too quickly,” Mike lied, sparing his captain from repeating the story.

“Yea, yea…I’m fine. Just got a little woozy back there,” Hank said, continuing with the fib he had told his engineer earlier.

Johnny spun around to begin preparations for the ordered IV as Roy continued assessing the leg fractures. He tore open the wrapper on the IV solution then hesitated as he watched his captain take a seat on the tailboard of the engine and lean forward, head in his hands. He briefly wondered what had happened to his superior but his training and professionalism quickly caused his attention to return to his patient. 

“Betty, you’re gonna feel a stick in your left arm, a’right?”

“’k,” she uttered softly then flinched as the large needle pierced her skin.

Hank inhaled a few more deep breaths then straightened up with his back against the hard metal of the engine, gazing over his crew. Regaining control was his sole focus at the moment. He noticed more than one set of eyes on him in silent question and decided to put an end to the loss of control to which he felt himself inching closer and closer.  
“Ambulance is here,” he commandingly stated the obvious as the attendants stood behind Johnny readying the stretcher for their victim. “John…you go in with Roy and the patient. Sandy can come and get you in the squad.”

Johnny and Roy exchanged concerned glances as Marco’s face turned a bit crimson as his usual assignment was passed off to the new guy. 

“Roy, you need me to…”

“DeSoto isn’t the captain. I am. Go in with Roy and the victim. Do I make myself clear?” Hank needed to assert his authority over this situation just as much as he needed both his paramedics busy and away from him. Otherwise, he might end up in the back of the ambulance and the last person he wanted treating him at the moment was one of his own men.”

Johnny’s mouth hung slightly agape as one eyebrow arched higher than the other. He knew better than to look at his partner. Finally, with a bit of a gulp, he acquiesced to his superior’s command and began packing up the supplies they might need in route. Since the patient now had a healthy dose of talwain on board, she wasn’t likely to overhear…or remember, at least…the conversation he intended to have with his partner on their way to Rampart.

As soon as the doors of the ambulance were secured, Marco gave the customary two slaps then watched as it drove away being followed closely by Sandy driving the squad. Turning slightly to his right, he saw a police officer he didn’t recognize directing the county coroner to the overturned van then continued his slow turn until he was facing the rear of the engine and his captain.

Hank felt Marco’s eyes boring holes into his chest. Finally, he looked up his lineman. “Let’s get this place cleaned up.”

“Might take awhile since you sent Sandy to Rampart so soon,” Marco mused.

“Then we better get started,” Hank ordered pushing himself into a standing position.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Marco ventured to ask having seen his captain assisted to the engine by Mike earlier.

“Never better,” Hank offered up sarcastically, his patience wearing thin after the attention he had been receiving.

E!

Roy rechecked his patient’s vitals and found that her blood pressure and pulse seemed to be normalizing now that her pain was less intense. Her eyes were closed and she was only responding to the sound of her name being spoken with a raised voice. 

Johnny knew they were still several minutes away from Rampart and with their patient as stable as possible under the circumstances, he decided now was the time to ask the question that had been burning inside his chest all morning.

“So, what’s goin’ on with you and Cap?”

“Nothing, Junior,” Roy said sitting up a little straighter, rechecking the victim’s pulse rather than looking at Johnny.

“C’mon, Roy. I know you better than that so cut the crap,” Johnny narrowed his dark eyes at his uneasy partner.

“Don’t want to bring you into the middle of my problem,” Roy retorted moving his hand from his patient’s wrist to her abdomen as he counted her respirations unnecessarily.  
“Well, it sounds like Marco’s already in the middle of it so why not include me too?”

Strained blue eyes looked up searching for support from the younger man. Roy exhaled loudly puffing out his ruddy checks then nervously biting his already sore lip. If he was truly going to help the Stanley’s then maybe he did need to pull his partner into the situation. A united front was going to be necessary and he knew it; Cap’s denial was simply too strong for he and Marco to combat alone. 

“Something’s really wrong with Cap, Johnny. I…well, it’s a long story.”

“Well, we don’t have a lot o’ time, Pally so ya better talk fast. You don’t wanna talk in front o’ the new guy, do ya?”

“No…and that’s part of it. We didn’t need to both ride in on this one.”

Johnny knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. “So, what are ya sayin’? Cap sent us both in and then sent Sandy to pick us up so we wouldn’t be alone?” 

“Yes, he sent us a chaperone so I wouldn’t have a chance to tell you what Marco and I saw on Saturday night?”

Johnny felt the icy cold fingers of dread squeezing his chest restricting his breathing. “Roy? What exactly did you see?”

Roy gripped the bench seat as the ambulance turned into Rampart Emergency and knew he had to blurt it out or risk not having the opportunity to tell his partner anything at all. “I saw Rebecca Stanley.”

Johnny allowed his half grin to surface along with a nervous chuckle. “So?”

Roy felt the ambulance backing up to the emergency room doors and knew his time was quickly running out. “Cap denied anything had happened but…,” he hesitated looking into his partner’s expressive face. “She’d been battered, Johnny.”

Johnny heard the ambulance doors opening and felt the stretched being pulled forward but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Roy. Had his partner just accused their captain of hurting his own wife? Momentarily forgetting protocol, he quickly grabbed Roy’s light blue shirt sleeve. “What are you saying?”

Roy looked down at the place where his partner was holding onto his sleeve. “We got a patient. We’ll talk later,” he said hopping out of the ambulance and following the orderlies inside, IV bag held high.

Johnny watched the entourage disappear inside the glass doors and make the right turn down the hallway. He felt as if someone had kicked him in the stomach. How could married family man Roy, of all people, accuse their superior of committing such a horrific act? Hank had been like a father to him ever since he had assumed the captaincy of Station 51 after their first year in operation. He had never known him to be anything like the monsters they came in contact with on domestic violence runs. How could someone as loving and caring as Hank Stanley ever do what Roy had just accused him of doing? Slowly, his heart answered the question his brain had asked. Hank wouldn’t…couldn’t do something like that. He was beginning to think he understood why Cap had been so hard on Roy and Marco this morning. And as he stood between the ambulance and the entrance to Rampart Emergency, hands planted firmly on his narrow hips, his understanding was becoming as clear as the glass doors through which he now stared. Of course Cap was angry and in Johnny’s opinion, he had every right to be. Cap abusing Mrs. Stanley was simply an impossibility and Roy and Marco knew it; so why was Roy making the accusation? Johnny’s mind clouded over as thoughts of the situation surrounded him. So much so, that he neither saw nor heard Sandy pulling the squad into the parking spot just a few feet from him. His unseeing eyes were focused inwardly on another couple, hidden injuries, and the shame associated with it all.

“Damn it, Roy. You can’t do this to him,” he mumbled louder than he’d intended.

“Can’t do what?”

Johnny spun sideways just in time to see Sandy closing the distance between them. “Oh, uh, sorry man. Just talkin’ to m’self.”

“Fine by me, Gage…just don’t go answering yourself or I’ll have to report you,” he snickered.

“No can do, my friend. You see, it‘s ok to talk to yourself and it‘s even ok to answer yourself. But,” he held up his finger for added effect. “Never, ever interrupt yourself,” he grinned, wrapping a friendly hand around Sandy’s shoulder as they entered the emergency room in search of their shift mate. “Now that would be a reportable offense…unless of course your last name is Kelly in which case it would just be considered normal behavior,” he joked, forcing the morbid thoughts from earlier to the back of his mind tucking them away until he had a chance to pull them back out for the upcoming inevitable confrontation.


	9. Hank's Haunting - 9

"Hey, Dix."

The head nurse looked up from her perch behind the nurse's station, closing the metal chart she had been reviewing. She had recognized the voice calling out to her but was a bit surprised to see a new face walking beside him down the corridor.

"Hey yourself, Tiger. Who's your new friend?" She questioned in her sultry smoky voice.

"Oh, Dixie McCall this is Sanford Mullins. He's fillin' in for Chet," Johnny explained as he swiftly moved his arm from Dixie to Sandy as he introduced them.

"Please, call me Sandy and it's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. McCall." Sandy reached out his hand offering a handshake to the pretty nurse.

A bright smile found its way across Dixie's face as she accepted the proffered hand. "And you may call me Dixie," she stated tilting her head slightly to the side. "Only my nurses call me Ms. McCall."

"Guess we might as well go ahead and restock the supplies while we wait on Roy," Johnny said leaning his hands against the counter, jutting out a hip. The position did not go unnoticed by one of the student nurses as she passed by. Johnny gave her his heart melting Gage grin when he saw her admiring his backside. He dipped his head slightly, clearing his throat in preparation for his opening remarks to her when his gaze happened to fall on the head nurse.  
Dixie stood straight up, arms crossed in front of her chest as she watched the nonverbal communication take place. "No, Johnny," she admonished wagging a well-manicured finger in front of his face.

"But Dix, she's cute and," he hesitated as a blush made its way up his neck towards his cheeks. "And, I think maybe she liked what she saw, ya know?"

"Mmmhmm, I bet her husband would disagree."

Sandy dropped his head releasing a cough-concealed snicker as he leaned his back against the wall nearest the base station watching Johnny's jaw drop.

"Uh, she's, um" John struggled looking back and forth between the matronly glare of the head nurse and the retreating curvature of the student nurse exiting the corridor. "She's...married?" He asked eyes wide.

"That's right…so hands off."

Johnny held up both hands facing the nurse's station. "Sure…no problem…I dig it…but, she…she was lookin' at me first, ya know."

"John Gage, you're impossible," Dixie spouted reaching beneath the cabinet for an empty box.

Johnny gave one more quick glance down the hallway then turned back around to face Dixie.

"What do you need?" She asked in mock exasperation.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Sandy spoke up for him.

"A cold shower," the lineman deadpanned.

Dixie lost her stern expression and cackled as she turned towards the new man. "You'll do well here, Sandy."

"Why, thank you, ma'am," he said pleased with his quick wittedness.

"Yea…ok, we need two bags of lactated ringers…," Johnny redirected the conversation.

By the time Dixie had restocked the supplies for the squad, Roy exited the treatment room. Sandy pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer to the senior paramedic.

"How is she?"

Roy looked at Sandy then at his partner who seemed preoccupied with counting the contents of the box of replacement supplies. "Doc thinks she'll make a full recovery although it may take some time. He's got a call in to orthopedics now and they hope to get her into surgery within the next hour."

"That's great," Sandy offered not recognizing the tension between the two paramedics.

"You ready to go?" Johnny cradling the box of supplies under his arm and walking swiftly past his partner without waiting for an answer.

"Uh," Roy stammered watching the retreating form of his young partner walking past him. "Yea, see ya Dix."

"Bye now," she waved leaning one hip on the stool behind the nurse's station. She watched with motherly concern as the three men made the left turn exiting Rampart Emergency and wondered what was wrong with her favorite paramedic team.

E!

Caroline looked down at her watch and realized it was nearly eleven o'clock. Her appointment had taken a little longer than usual and she was beginning to feel the achiness from the added exercises for her back. She trudged up the walkway, silently praying that the morning had gone well for both Chet and Corrie. As she slowly pushed open her door, she heard music playing…and a familiar, albeit off key male voice singing from inside her apartment.

"Oooohhh, do it." Chet held Corrie in his arms and smiled as she giggled at his singing voice.

"Oooohhh, do it," he repeated and began spinning around the room with his young dance partner on his hip as the music continued to build. Corrie gripped his shirt at his shoulders and held on as they continued to spin and twirl around the room, her childish laughter blending with the music. Chet was so lost in the moment that he didn't hear Caroline enter the apartment. "Do the hustle…do the hustle," he sang out then swiftly moved with dexterity around the living room doing his best to mimic the dance moves he'd seen others using with this song.

Caroline stifled a chuckle, covering her mouth with her fingers as she watched the happy duo swaying to the music. The fatigue immediately replaced with absolute joy.  
Chet reached up and clutched a tiny left hand, peeling it from his shirt and holding it out to the side then up over Corrie's head as he spun around; his blue eyes catching a glimpse of Caroline standing in front of the closed front door.

"Ah, oh…uh, see we, um…"

"Mommie!"

Chet continued to stutter in his embarrassment as he allowed the toddler to slither down his side to the floor and run to greet her mother.

"Hey, Corrie. Were you a good girl?" Caroline winced as she reached for her daughter; a move that Chet immediately noticed.

"Ladybug, why don't we let Mommie rest for a minute ok? She's really tired," he said reaching for the excited girl's hand and ushering her towards the sofa. He placed the child on the cushion, reaching to turn down the music playing from the eight track player, then turned back around to assist Caroline. "You ok?"

"Yea, I think so. Just added some new exercises to my routine and I think I might've over done it a little with…"

Chet looked up at the sound of Caroline's frozen voice and wondered why she was staring at her daughter. "Corrie…did you talk Mister Chet into giving you Lucky Charms?"

Chet drew his eyebrows into a bushy 'V' on his forehead. "How'd you know?"

Caroline eased herself down onto the couch then looked up at the worried Irishman. Finally, a big smile spread across her beautiful features and Chet wondered if perhaps he wasn't in as much trouble as he initially thought. "Chet…her teeth are blue and she has green spots on her lips. She only eats the marshmallows."

"Aww, geez…I forgot to brush her teeth," Chet said slapping himself on the forehead. "I'm sorry, Caroline. I really am. We were just…"

"Sshhh, it's ok, Chet. I'm not complaining. From what I'm seeing…and, uh, hearing…I think you did great."

Chet felt a blush warming his ears and for once was grateful for his thick curly hair to hide them in. "She's really special, Caroline. Just like her mom." There, he'd said it. It didn't come out at all the way he'd planned it but he had at least opened the door to telling her how he felt.

Caroline flashed a quick smile then looked back down at the colorful grin of her daughter. "She is special," she mused trying to think of something else to say in response to Chet's compliment. "Um, listen, Chet. I really appreciate all you've done over the last few weeks and I…well, we'd be honored if you'd join us for dinner," she said looking into the stunned face of her hero. "I'm a fairly decent cook," she added hopefully.

Chet slipped his flattened hands into the back pockets of his jeans then rocked back slightly. "Yea, uh, yea that'd be great. Just say when."

"Tomorrow night?"

A warm genuine smile spread from beneath his bushy mustache. "Sounds great. I'll see you tomorrow night then."

Corrie sensed that her time with her new friend was about to come to an end. Rolling onto her stomach and sliding off the sofa, she stood in front of Chet with her arms held high. "Da huzzie!"

Chet's eyes nearly popped out of his head at the mispronunciation by the precocious toddler. "Um, I..I swear, I didn't teach her that word. Honest, I didn't," he stammered nervously forgetting that Corrie was reaching up for him.

Caroline tried to keep a straight face; for some strange reason she enjoyed Chet's nervousness around her. The bubbling laughter finally won out and erupted from deep within her soul as Corrie, refusing to be ignored, grabbed Chet's jeans at his knee and began shaking the handful of denim.

"Da huzzie!"

"Sweatheart, it's The Hustle," she corrected and was delighted when Corrie repeated the title with a bit more accuracy.

Chet acquiesced to Corrie's pleading and picked her up just as Caroline began to reassure them both. "Mr. Chet can't stay here and dance with you all day but he's gonna come over tomorrow night and eat with us, ok?"

Corrie's grin faded into a forlorn stare as she looked Chet face to face, silently asking if what her mother was saying was true.

"That's right, Ladybug. Mommie's gonna cook for us both, ok? I'll dance with you tomorrow night," he offered.

"And don't look so shocked at her pronunciation of The Hustle. You should've heard what she said when we drove up to Station 51 and she saw the fire engine." A hint of embarrassment colored Caroline's already rosy cheeks.

Confusion shadowed his face as Chet silently repeated fire engine to himself trying to figure out what she meant.

Caroline quickly realized what he was doing and decided to explain it to him a little better. "She tried to say fire truck."

Suddenly, Chet squeezed his eyes shut and a mischievous-looking smile parted his lips when he finally looked at Caroline again. "Lemme guess…she put the 'F' in the wrong place, didn't she?"

He was rewarded with a gentle nod of affirmation.

E!

"Squad 51, available."

Roy cranked up the squad and backed out of the parking space as his partner communicated with the dispatcher.

"10-4, 51."

As soon as Sam Lanier's voice acknowledged their status, Sandy began to ask questions about the routines back at the station. He wanted to know the differences between 51's and his previous assignment. The two paramedics were grateful for the distraction as they both answered the questions easily even though their minds were more focused on their superior...but for different reasons.

As Roy backed the squad into the apparatus bay, Sandy continued to fill the silence.

"Guys, I'm going to go finish up in the dorm. It might be a while before the engine gets back but you two could get a run at any time right?"  
Roy looked at his partner's stern face before he answered. "That's right."

Johnny knew that Sandy expected him to return to the dorm to finish their assigned chores but he also knew that he needed to further discuss the Stanley situation with his partner before the subject of their conversation returned. "Roy, can I see ya for a minute?"

Roy watched as the dorm door swished back into its original position behind Sandy then turned to his friend. "Sure. Kitchen?"

Roy leaned against the sink, arms crossed over his chest and legs crossed at his ankles. He stared at the floor as he waited for Johnny to get to the point; something that could take a while, knowing Johnny.

John pressed his lips into a thin line as he studied his partner. The silence between them was uncomfortable but so was the accusation he'd heard on their last run. Finally, he cleared his throat and began his inquest.

"Ahem, so you, ah…you think Cap hurt Mrs. Stanley? Is that it?"

Roy sighed as he contemplated the answer. "Yes, but before you start in on me let me remind you that you weren't there, Johnny. You didn't see what we saw."

The dark haired paramedic huffed sarcastically, running a nervous finger beneath his nose before propping a hand on his narrow hip. "Well, why don't you just explain it to me then?"

"Alright," Roy began, straightening his stance and uncrossing his arms. "But you've got to hear me out…no interruptions."

"Fine by me," Johnny said, arms flailing animatedly as he pulled out a chair and took a seat at the table.

Roy saw the intensity in his partner's eyes as he joined him at the table. "On the way to the birthday party, Jo and the kids and I stopped by a toy store to pick up a gift. I stayed in the car and while they were inside, Cap came out…no gift, even though he had said he would attend." Roy narrowed his eyes at his partner. "By the way, why weren't you there?"

Johnny shifted nervously, clearing his throat. Clearly, he didn't like the direction the conversation was going. "Ahem, this isn't about me but I was pulling some OT if you must know. Now, back to Cap."

Roy's blue eyes darted across his junior partner's face wondering briefly what he was hiding. He decided to file the thought away for another conversation on another day. "Anyway, when he didn't show up, Marco and I decided to go looking for him."

There was a pause and Johnny leaned forward. "And?"

"We found him at Embers. Johnny, I've never seen Cap drunk before. I mean, yea we've all been out drinking and he's joined us at times but I mean…he was slurring his speech and stumbling around and…Glenda threatened to call the police if he didn't let us take him home."

Johnny could feel his heart pounding in his throat. He knew his superior wasn't a man who would drink to excess…but his partner wasn't a liar either. He stared at the gold flecks in the white top of the kitchen table trying to mesh the two truths into something that made sense.

"Johnny?"

The younger man inhaled sharply lifting his eyes. "I'm listening; go on."

"Anyway, he was cursing and yelling and when we finally got him home he got sick. We barely got him to the bathroom before he…well, made a mess."

"Damn," Johnny swore under his breath.

"That's when I got a good look at Becca….inside the house where the lighting was better and," he looked up, locking eyes with his partner. "Her cheek was bruised and she had a split lip."

"What'd she say happened?" Johnny asked trying not to sound defensive.

"Walked into a door going to the bathroom during the night." Roy waited for his words to sink in. "How many times have we heard that one, huh?"

Johnny felt the heat around his collar building and his breathing rate increased. He knew his blood pressure was rising as the knot in his stomach grew. Narrowing his eyes once again, he pointed a finger at the chest of his partner and friend. "You're right…I wasn't there so I don't know what happened. But 'til I see him…hit her or 'til he tells me he did it…I won't believe it. I can't believe it. 'Cause that isn't Hank Stanley…and you know it too, Roy." Johnny's admonishment was cut short by the sound of the klaxons.

Both men jumped up from their seats but it was Roy who finished the conversation. "We'll talk more later. Something's wrong. I'm sure of it."

E!

The remainder of the day was spent on one run after the other. The busy shift kept the men from talking to each other about their captain and it kept their captain from worrying about his predicament. By lights out, five weary firemen shuffled to their bunks and were soon sound asleep; each hoping the citizens in their district wouldn't need them for at least the next eight hours.

Hank lay in bed trying his best not to fall asleep. He couldn't risk having a nightmare in the presence of his men. He had to retain some semblance of control even if it was nothing more than a quickly crumbling façade. Finally, as soft snores joined in time with the ticking of the wall clock, Hank quietly got out of bed, stepped into his bunkers and headed for the locker room. He reached into his duffle bag and withdrew two bottles. His reddened eyes stared at them until the blurriness cleared enough for him to see which bottle he needed. He replaced the other one and poured a couple of the large white pills into his hand before quietly exiting through the latrine door and heading to the kitchen for a glass of water…and another long, lonely night.


	10. Chapter 10

Warning: strong language

Hank’s Haunting – 10

Mike rolled over in his bunk, the squeaking sound pulling him from his slumber. He was momentarily mesmerized by his whereabouts until he realized he was in the dorm and that he had actually slept all night; there had been no tone out for the station. He tried to roll over on his belly in search of those last few precious moments of sleep but his bladder protested his efforts. As much as he hated to, he knew he had to go ahead and relieve himself from the building pressure. He sat up swinging his legs over the side of the narrow bed and standing up with a slow stretch of his arms over his sandy bedhead hair. As he took a step towards the locker room door, his mouth widened in an unflattering yawn as his watery gaze fell on the empty bunk of his captain and he snickered silently, ascertaining the older man’s bladder had awoken him as well.

As soon as he’d taken care of business in the latrine, he quietly returned to his bedside, stepping into his bunkers and pulling the suspenders over his shoulders, then headed to the kitchen. He’d seen no sign of Hank and since his bunker pants were not at his bedside, he assumed the older man had awakened early and was probably making coffee for the rest of the crew. Mike decided to join him thinking that perhaps they’d have a few uninterrupted minutes to talk privately before the rest of the crew were aroused by wake up tones.

E!

Rebecca Stanley awoke with a start unsure if the sound she’d heard was in her home or in her dream. She curled back beneath the covers and listened intently but the only sound she heard was silence. She rolled over in the queen sized bed she had shared with her husband for so many years and looked at the spot where he normally slept. They had shared so many years of joy and happiness in this very place. She thought of all the nights they’d spent holding each other, his tender caresses and their passionate love-making. Their union had brought two wonderful daughters into the world and she gently wiped away a tear from her still bruised cheek. Would she ever know the gentle side of her husband again? Would they ever enjoy a fulfilling physical relationship as they had for so long and would he ever just hold her in his strong arms while she slept peacefully? The emptiness in her heart matched the barrenness of the pillow beside her and finally, unable to withstand staring at the scene any longer, she turned her back on the cold empty side of the bed and silently wept for all that now seemed lost forever.

E!

Mike pushed through the doorway entering the station kitchen and gasped at what he saw.

“Cap?” He questioned rushing to his superior and shaking the sleeping man’s shoulders. “Cap, you ok?”

Hank’s resistance to sleep had finally failed him. At some point during the night, he had sat down at the kitchen table and rested his head on his crossed arms. “Mungh,” he groaned; an unsightly string of saliva clinging to the corner of his mouth and pooling on the table top. “Son’bitch,” he drawled out half asleep yet bolting upright at the feeling of hands on his shoulders shaking away the last remnants of sleep.

“Easy, Cap. It’s just me…what’re you doing out here?”

“Damn,” he continued to curse as reality and wakefulness fought for control of his senses. He looked over at the concerned face of his engineer. “Resting…couldn’t sleep…what’s it look like I’m doing?”

“Sleeping,” Mike offered with a hint of sarcasm. “How long you been out here?”

Hank narrowed his eyes at Mike. “Why the third degree? I guess I finally nodded off. No big deal.” The groggy fire captain flattened his palms down on the kitchen table pushing himself into a standing position. “Gotta get some coffee going.”

Mike knew that if he was going to ask the important question, now was his best opportunity. “Is this about Roy and Marco?”

“No,” Hank began, pulling the coffee canister near the coffee pot and measuring out the rich smelling grains. “It’s about caffeine.”

Mike was not amused by his captain’s diversion tactic. “I mean the reason you can’t sleep. Is it because of what we talked about yesterday…Marco and Roy?” Mike wasn’t going to give up easily. He watched Hank continue with the preparations for the coffee and decided to push a little more. “I’m on your side, Cap. You know that, right?” Mike’s gut was beginning to tighten unable to determine if he’d just told his captain an outright lie.

“Want some breakfast, Michael?”

The sound of his formal name instead of the casual ‘Mike’ meant that Hank was finished with being questioned and his engineer knew it. “No thanks, Cap. I think I’ll wait until I get home,” he further stated knowing that as soon as he got home, he would be calling the two men on his team who seemed to have some insight into their captain’s odd behavior and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

E!

The ringing telephone jerked Chet from his happy slumber and left him slapping around on his nightstand trying to find the receiver. Finally, his hand landed on its target and pulled the black handset to his ear. “’ello?”

“Hey, Chet…how ya feelin’?”

A very sleepy Chet screwed his face up in confusion and ran a hand through his dark curly hair as he listened to the chipper voice of his shiftmate on the other end. “J-Johnny?”

“Yea…you ok?” Johnny was suddenly concerned about the slurring speech of his friend.

“Yea, man. Just wakin’ up…slept in. What’s goin’ on, Gage?” Chet asked getting right to the point.

Johnny looked over his shoulder making sure no one else was in the dorm listening to his conversation. “Listen, I, uh…I need to talk to ya ‘bout somethin’ and I was wonderin’ if maybe you could meet me for breakfast?”

“No-ope,” Chet yawned then continued before his nemesis could protest his refusal. “But you could buy my breakfast and bring it by my place.”

Johnny rolled his eyes; he could almost hear the smile on the other end of the line. Truthfully, it was great to know that Chet was beginning to behave like his old self again but at the moment, there was another concern that had been nagging the dark haired paramedic all shift. 

“Fine, Kelly. I’ll be there in half an hour. You want the usual?”

“Yep, thanks man. I always wanted to be served breakfast in bed,” Chet snickered. Yesterday had been wonderful as he babysat for Caroline and tonight the beautiful young mother was cooking him dinner. Nothing John Gage could say was going to ruin this day for him.

“If you’re still in bed when I get there you’ll be consuming your morning meal backwards ‘cause I’m gonna shove it….,”

“See you soon, Gagey-Baby,” he chuckled slamming down the phone before Johnny could finish his threat.

E!

Roy looked over his shoulder at the sound of a loud whistle. Turning around, he saw Marco walking quickly across the rear parking lot closing the distance between them. “Want to get some breakfast, DeSoto?”

“Just the two of us?” He asked looking over Marco’s shoulder at the figure exiting the rear bay door.

Marco didn’t look around, fear of their superior’s wrath still heavy on his shoulders. “Yea, I guess.” Johnny’s rover was already gone.

Roy nodded at the slender man walking up behind them. “Mike, wanna join us for breakfast?”

“Um, yea,” he began slinging his jacket over his shoulder. “I was gonna call you fellas anyway. Where’s Gage?” He asked realizing they were short a man.

“I don’t know. He shot outta here like a bat outta hell a few minutes ago. We, ah, we don’t seem to be seeing eye to eye at the moment,” Roy explained.

“Well, Mullins is pulling a double and,” Mike cast a quick glance over his shoulder. “And Cap’s…well, maybe we should go get some food and talk about it.”

E!

Johnny paid for the omelettes and hashbrowns then picked up the bag and the drink holder with the two cups of coffee. “Keep the change, Amy,” he nodded at the waitress, backing out of the doorway with his arms full of food.

“Thanks, Sweetie,” she said wiping her hands on her apron and pulling her pencil from behind her ear as she prepared to take the order of the two truck drivers who had been eyeing her since they sat down.

Johnny pulled out of the parking lot and headed for Chet’s apartment complex. He never even saw the Porsche of his best friend turning in a few car lengths behind him. Roy noticed the familiar rover speeding down the highway in a direction other than Johnny’s apartment and wondered where his partner was headed so early in the morning. Truthfully, Johnny was usually an open book but the two hadn’t had much time to talk during the last shift and the few words they had spoken had been strained.

He stepped out of his car and headed for the pay phone. “Lemme call Joann,” he explained waving to Mike and Marco as the two men entered the diner and found a table. 

The two firemen took a seat at a corner table just as Amy walked up with a handful of coffee cups and a pitcher of coffee. “Well, half the station has been in now,” she grinned pouring two cups of coffee. 

“Uh, Roy’s talking on the phone. You might want to pour him a cup too,” Mike said with a smile.

“Ok, well…Chet and Hank coming by too? Johnny just left,” she piped up.

Mike and Marco exchanged questioning stares. “No, just the three of us today,” Marco answered just as Roy pulled out a chair.

“I’ll bring another coffee cup right out, Roy.”

“Thanks, Amy,” Roy answered taking a seat.

“She said Gage had just been by here,” Mike offered as more of a question than a statement.

“Yea, well…he’s a big boy…he can do what he wants,” Roy responded flipping the menu over as if he were pondering his meal. He always ordered the same thing so he really didn’t know why Amy even bothered with menus. He missed the weary glance the other two shared at his icy comment about his partner.

“Here ya go, sweetie,” Amy said setting the empty cup down on the table and filling it full of steaming brew. “Now, one southwestern omelette, one order of hotcakes with bacon and one scrambled egg plate with extra bacon and toast with grape jelly,” she wrote down retrieving the menus without the men saying a word. “Or did you fellas want to try something new today?”

“I’d say you know us well,” Roy responded looking at the other two men and snickering. 

“Hey, I like my men happy and well-fed,” she said with a flirtatious wink before walking away. “Be back with your food in a minute.”

“So what’s up, Mike?” Roy asked stirring a spoonful of sugar into his black coffee.

Mike worked his eyes between the two friends sitting on either side of him then steepled his hands in front of his steaming cup of coffee. “Ahem, well, I thought I would ask you guys the same question.”

E!

Johnny rapped his knuckles on the door for the second time, expertly balancing the two cups of coffee and the bag of food along his narrow hip. “C’mon, Chet. Don’t make me drop the food, man!”

Chet chuckled from behind the closed door. He slowly creaked it open and saw his lanky friend, eyes hidden behind aviator style sunglasses but with an obvious scowl on his face. “Gage, come on in. So nice of you to drop by and bring me breakfast.”

“Cut the shit, Kelly. This is important,” he said rushing past the shorter man and into the darkened room. He pushed the coffee into Chet’s waiting hands then removed his sunglasses so he could look at his lineman. 

“Somethin’ wrong at the station or is this about a chick?” Chet asked plopping his sweatpant-clad bottom into a chair at his small dinette.

“Station,” Johnny answered pulling the food out of the bag and setting it between them.

“Yea, well whatever it is I didn’t do it, man. I wasn’t even there so don’t come in here blamin’ it on me…or the phantom ‘cause he’s kinda been outta commission too, ya know?” Chet spoke around a mouthful of eggs, ham and peppers. “Mmm, Gage this is delicious.”

“Yea, well…you’re welcome and…and it isn’t you…it’s Roy and Marco.”

Suddenly, Chet stopped chewing and tried to swallow the large amount of food in his mouth. The effort was obviously painful as his watery eyes confirmed but Johnny didn’t even notice as he continued to inhale his omelette. “G, Gage did…did something happen to them?”

Johnny recognized the near panic in his friend’s eyes and quickly swatted his hand in dismissal. “No, no nothing like that it’s just…I don’t know, Roy said something to me that…that I just can’t believe.” He took another bite of hashbrowns drenched in ketchup. “At least,” he gulped, reaching for his coffee. “I don’t wanna believe it.”

E!

A/N: thank you to everyone who is continuing to read this story. I appreciate the support, kudos, and comments. It really helps me know what works and what doesn’t.


	11. Hank's Haunting - 11

Warning: strong language

Hank’s Haunting – chapter 11

“That’s bullshit, Gage and you know it!”

Johnny looked at the Irishman with bewilderment, recoiling from the fork stabbing the air in front of his nose. “I know, I know. I said that’s what THEY think not me,” he argued, splaying an open hand across his chest. 

Chet propped a foot on the chair railing while he ran his hand through his curly hair. “Look, I messed up, I get it…really, I do. And… I’ve gotta pay the price for it when I get back to the station …probably gonna have latrine duty for a month…but I still respect the man.” 

“You gonna be cleared for duty soon?” Johnny questioned, returning to his plate for another large bite of omelette.

“Yea, I think so. I’ve gotta head over to Rampart in a little while and let Dr. Harrison look at my foot again but I think he’ll release me.” Chet took a sip of his coffee before continuing. “I really like the guy. I don’t have to be concerned about him being judgmental, ya know?”

“Sounds like a great doctor to balance with Morton,” John snickered before allowing his face to fall. “Cap did seem to come down kinda hard on ya though, didn’t he?” Johnny asked running a nervous finger around the rim of his coffee cup.

“He had every right to, Johnny. What I did was wrong and,” Chet shifted nervously in his seat. Expressing his feelings with his shiftmates was something new for him and it was still a struggle, especially with John Gage. “I’ll never forget what you fellas did for me that day. I mean, you came here and babysat me while I got over the…self-inflicted sedation,” he smirked, remembering the whiskey and narcotic combination. “Then, that day at the station….you guys,” he hesitated remembering that what they had told their captain, although not lies, had been rather devious insinuations. 

Johnny looked up, understanding melting his dark eyes. He knew what his friend was thinking and that the lineman was struggling to put his appreciation into words. “We got each other’s back, man. It could’ve easily been anyone of us so we gotta lookout for each other. No way were we gonna let you get fired for….ya know, bein’ upset.”

“Yea,” Chet blushed when he caught a glimpse of Johnny looking at him. “You guys really came through for me…even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“We’re all human,” Johnny said, patting the shorter man on the shoulder. “We all need a little extra support sometimes.”

“Mmmm,” Chet nodded, staring down at his black coffee, curls of steam wafting upwards.

“Ahem, ’sides,” Johnny grinned. “I still owe you for that crutch assault.”

Chet couldn’t hold back the nervous chuckle and subsequent grimace as he recalled the agony his well-aimed crutch had delivered to Johnny’s groin. “Ugh, yea, more like a crotch assault wasn’t it? I hafta say, the payback for that is gonna be…well…that’s what concerns me.”

“It should,” Johnny chuckled allowing his half grin to brighten the mood. Then, his face fell as his thoughts returned to the reason he had sought Chet out so early this morning. “But right now, this whole thing between Cap and Roy and Marco is what concerns me.” He took another sip of the rich hot coffee. “What should we do about it?”

“Not much we can do, is there? I mean, offer Cap our support and let him know that…that we don’t believe it.” Chet leaned back in his seat anxious to hear Johnny’s thoughts on the matter.

“I don’t know…Cap…he’s been almost like a father to me. Or at least a big brother. I just…how do I talk to him?” Johnny questioned, staring into the remains of his breakfast. He also thought about Roy and Marco, wondering what would happen to them if he mentioned anything to Cap about what Roy had said. “I can’t just waltz up to him and say ‘oh by the way, Cap, I don’t think you beat your wife.’ I mean, geez, how do we start that kind of a conversation?”

Chet thought for a moment before responding. “Maybe we shouldn’t. Maybe Stoker should talk to him. He’s closer to Cap than the rest of us, it seems to me anyway,” Chet mumbled drooping his head.

Johnny slowly shook his head from side to side. “I don’t know. I’m not sure where Mike stands on this one. He’s quieter than the rest of us but…he’s observant and…,” Johnny picked up his coffee cup before he continued. “I really don’t want to get him stirred up in this mess if we don’t have to…if he goes to Cap with it then…,”

“Yea…I hear ya,” Chet said lifting his cup to his mouth. “If we can’t talk to Stoker…and we damn sure can’t talk to Cap about it without upsetting the whole station then…who CAN we talk to, Gage?”

E!

“You think maybe we should talk to Rebecca instead?” Mike questioned.

Roy and Marco looked at Mike as if he’d taken leave of his senses.

“How are we gonna do that? When he’s not with her he’s with us?” 

“True, Roy. But what about Joann? You think maybe Mrs. Stanley would talk to her?” Mike’s blue eyes peered over his coffee cup as he waited for a response.

“Jo offered to take her out to lunch when I told her about what happened but…I don’t think Rebecca would go out with her face bruised.” Roy leaned back as Amy approached, placing a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him.

The trio waited for their meal to be served before resuming their conversation.

“Can I get you fellas anything else?” Amy asked with a bright smile.

“I think we’re good. Thank you,” Marco spoke for the group.

As soon as the waitress was out of hearing range, Roy spoke up again. “Mike, haven’t you noticed anything different about him?” 

Mike sighed, a forkful of hotcakes dripping in syrup hovering over the white plate. He pressed his lips together tightly as he pondered his response. “Ahem,” he cleared his throat, slowly setting the fork back down on his plate then folding his hands. “Yea…but fellas, it didn’t start on Saturday. It started a few weeks ago.”

E!

Rebecca Stanley stood at the stove scrambling the eggs she knew her husband would want as soon as he walked in the door. At least, she hoped he’d walk in the door. Their last encounter had left her wondering if he was even going to come home. She stared at the bubbling mixture of yellow liquid as her mind drifted back to their heated verbal exchange on Sunday morning. He’d said something about going away. She couldn’t remember exactly how he had said it but something in his words led her to believe that he might not even come home after shift. 

“Please, Hank. We need you,” she mumbled to herself, absently wiping her damp hands on a dish cloth then setting it down on the spoon rest on the stove.

“Bye, Mom.”

Rebecca spun around waving at her two daughters as they headed out to the bus stop. “Bye, girls. Have a good day,” she croaked out doing her best to dry her eyes so they didn’t see her crying. Moments later, she heard the distinctive sound of the school bus rolling to a stop at the corner. She was alone now and she looked up at the clock on the wall. If he was coming home, and if the station hadn’t been called out on a run just before shift change then he’d be driving up any time now. She couldn’t let him see that she’d been crying so she reached for the paper towel dispenser, realizing that one of the girls must have retrieved the last one without replacing the roll.

E!

Hank turned his car into the driveway then sat staring at the steering wheel. How had his life become so confused in such a short time? The two places he’d always felt the most comfortable and confident were now the two places he dreaded the most. At home, he was a poor excuse for a husband and father. At the station, he was a poor excuse for a firefighter, especially a captain. Where did he really belong these days? His life no longer a matter of where he was needed most, but a matter of where he would do the least damage?

Finally, he knew he had to face her; he had to tell the only woman he’d ever loved that he had decided to move out for a while. He reached into the passenger’s seat grabbing his duffle bag. He didn’t know where he’d go but he knew he couldn’t stay here any longer. He couldn’t continue to hurt those whom he loved more than life itself.

E!

Rebecca rummaged through the cabinets searching for another roll of paper towels, the frying bacon and cooking eggs temporarily forgotten. She heard Hank’s keys rattling in the door knob just as she smelled something burning. As Hank pushed open the door and stepped inside, he heard a blood curdling scream emanating from the kitchen and rushed inside to find his panicked wife fanning the flames on the stove with a newly opened roll of paper towels. The grease from the frying bacon had spattered along the edges of the gas burner igniting the dish towel as well as the contents of the frying pan. In no time, the paper towels were also flaming. In her shock, Rebecca dropped the paper towels into the burning grease, spreading the flaming oil across the stove top and splattering some on her hands as well.

“Becca, get out!” Hank’s shouts drowned out her screams as he grabbed her around the waist and shoved her away from danger. He quickly turned off the gas burners, covering the pans with lids and tossing the smoldering remains of the dish towel and paper towel roll into the kitchen sink. He turned on the water, quickly extinguishing the flames then threw open the kitchen window to allow the smoke to escape. 

Soft whimpers pulled his attention back around to the opposite side of the room where his wife lay curled onto her side, her hands cupping her bloody forehead. “Oh my god, Becca?” He rushed to her side kneeling down and gently pulling her blood covered trembling hands away from her hairline, noting the hissing sound she made when he touched the blistering splotches on the backs of her hands. His heart sank into his shoes as he saw the blood running down the side of her temple mixing with her tears as it coursed towards her ear. He felt her quivering as he carefully pulled back on her wrists encouraging her to allow him to tend to her wounds.

Rebecca Stanley couldn’t stop shivering, even when she felt familiar hands coaxing her to release her scalp. She knew she was injured, felt the stinging on the backs of her hands as the warm thick fluid slid between her fingers then down her cheek. She also realized that her carelessness could have caused them to lose their home. In a rush of emotions, the tears poured out. This was not going to help their situation. She just hoped that somehow, he would forgive her.

“Sweetheart, wha…what happened?”

Rebecca’s sobs continued, her hiccupping breaths tearing Hank’s heart out of his chest. “I, I guess, I…I let the grease get…too hot. Ple,”

“No, no, honey…that was just a grease fire. I mean, you’re hurt. Did…did I,” he began but couldn’t finish his thought. His actions might have extinguished the fire but they also left his wife with a bleeding head wound in addition to what would likely be second degree burns on her hands. He reached a nervous hand out, gently touching her scalp near the large laceration, holding his breath when she recoiled from his touch. He gulped hard looking around the room for the object that he had obviously shoved her into and his eyes lingered on the corner of the kitchen table. A small amount of blood was visible along the edge and he realized that he had used too much force to get her out of the way of the fire and she had fallen hard against the sharp corner of the table, creating a two inch gap along her hairline. 

“Becca, I’m so sorry. Just, just lie still and let me get some ice and…,” he whispered hoarsely, rushing to the refrigerator before he had even finished his statement.

Moments later, Rebecca felt the icy pain of a cold wet Ice pack being placed along her forehead with more pressure than she thought necessary. Additionally, her burning hands began stinging even worse as ice packs were wrapped around them as well. “Honey, uh…we need to get you to a hospital.”

E!

Chet drove in an easterly direction on his way to Rampart General Hospital for what he hoped would be his last visit with Dr. Harrison. If all went well, he’d be released for duty for the next time ‘A’ shift was working…and he’d be enjoying the company of a certain young lady later on this evening. He reached his destination wondering where the time had gone, his thoughts vacillating between Caroline Marks and Captain Stanley. How could Roy and Marco think that their commanding officer could hurt the love of his life?

He pulled into a parking spot near the emergency entrance, having been told previously to enter through the emergency doors to have Dr. Harrison check his foot wound for his medical release. He removed his sunglasses, dropping them into his shirt pocket. When he looked up, he was stunned to see a familiar black sedan wheeling into the only vacant parking space at the emergency room doors and a worried fire captain waving to an orderly as he rounded the front of the sedan and quickly opened up the passenger’s side door. 

“Cap?” He spoke into the silence of his van.

E!

Hank waved to the orderly standing inside the glass doors as he rounded the front of the car in his rush to get to his wife. He pulled open the passenger’s door and reached in, noticing that a few drops of blood had escaped from the icy compress she was trying to hold over her wound, dotting her pale blue blouse. “Baby…here, let me help you out,” he spoke softly holding her elbow for support as she stepped out of the car.

“Need my help to get her out?”

Hank looked at the orderly who was placing a wheelchair into position. “No, I think we can manage…ok, honey, just sit down slowly. The wheelchair is right behind you.”

Rebecca’s legs felt weak and as soon as she felt the backs of her legs bump the chair, she allowed herself to plop down into it. The sudden movement causing a wave of nausea to rush over her.

“Ok, ma’am, just lift your feet and…that’s it,” the orderly said as he guided her feet onto the footrests then reached for the handles and pushed her through the automatic doors.

Hank followed closely behind them making the right turn in the corridor that led them towards the nurse’s station. 

Behind the desk, Sally turned her pretty face to the right and was surprised to see Hank Stanley rushing down the hallway, his face pale. “Captain Stanley, may I help you?”

“Rebecca burned her hands and fell against our table,” he said breathlessly. “She’s gonna need stitches and treatment for her hands.”

Sally looked up at the orderly sweeping her gaze past the patient who sat resting her elbow on the armrest, face propped in her palm. “Four.” She quickly followed them down the hallway and into the treatment room just as Chet walked through the doors. 

He cast a worried glance down the long corridor looking for his captain. Seeing no one he knew, he made the left turn toward the registration desk and took his place in line. By the time he signed in, he heard Dr. Harrison’s name being paged to treatment room four. He took a seat in the yellow chairs, making sure he chose one with a good view of the treatment rooms. He knew he had seen Captain Stanley rushing Mrs. Stanley inside when he first drove up. Now, as he sat down thumbing through a magazine, he wondered what was happening…and questioned whether or not he needed to call Johnny.

E!

Rebecca felt herself being lifted out of the wheelchair and gently laid down on the examination table. A tightness along her upper right arm let her know that her blood pressure was being checked while familiar hands stroked her cheek, gently brushing her dark locks away from the blood. “Hank, I…”

“Sshh, honey…let Sally do her job, ok? Everything’s gonna be alright. Just try to relax for us,” he crooned.

Sally made a notation of her patient’s vitals then stepped over to the phone, paging Dr. Harrison to treatment room four. 

“Harrison?”

“He’s a wonderful doctor, Captain Stanley.”

Hank shook his head, “Oh, I wasn’t questioning his ability. That’s just not a name I’m familiar with at Rampart.” He brushed his wife’s hair again as he continued. “I guess…I was just expecting Brackett or Early.”

Sally saw the concern on the man’s face. “Dr. Brackett is off and Dr. Early is assisting Dr. Morton with another patient right now. We’ve been kinda busy this morning,” she said with a smile, then returned her attention to removing the ice pack from Rebecca’s forehead. “Ok, I’m gonna clean this up a little so Dr. Harrison can get a better look at it.”

“She, uh, she has burns on her hands too, Sally.” 

The pretty blonde haired nurse examined the backs of both of Rebecca’s hands noting the blistering that was beginning to surface. She replaced the ice packs then returned her attention to cleaning up Rebecca’s face removing as much blood as she could. As she stroked Rebecca’s bruised cheekbone with the dampened gauze pad, she realized that not all of her wounds were fresh. Her training kicked into high gear pushing her personal knowledge about this couple to the rear of her brain for the time being. 

“Mrs. Stanley, did you also hit your cheekbone when you fell? I see some bruising here and around your mouth.” Sally knew the answer but needed to find out what her patient might tell her. 

“No…no, I uh, I slipped in the shower a few days ago. Hit my face on the faucet,” she said, her voice quivering. 

“I see,” Sally replied with a reassuring smile. Had she turned to look at Hank, she would have noticed the wounded look on his pale face. “I guess you’ve had a pretty rough week then huh?”  
Sally knew the injuries fit a particularly nasty pattern that she had seen more times than she could count. No longer was this a couple of people she knew fairly well. Now she had a patient…one who was possibly a victim. She documented her suspicions in the chart then reached inside a cabinet for a hospital gown. “Mr. Stanley, will you help me get her into a gown please?”

“Of course,” he answered, reaching trembling hands to unbutton his wife’s blouse. How long had it been since he’d done this? The intimacy between them had been nonexistent for several weeks. He pushed those thoughts aside as his fingers continued to disrobe her and assisting Sally in carefully easing her into a hospital gown. They were just finishing tying it behind her neck when the door swung open and an unfamiliar man in a white coat walked in.

“Hello, my name is Dr. Harrison. I’ll be taking care of you today,” he said as Sally handed him a record locking serious eyes with his. He saw her quickly dart her eyes towards the manila colored folder and immediately knew that there was something inside she wanted him to read.

“This is Rebecca Stanley and her husband Hank. Rebecca had an accident in their kitchen this morning. She has a two inch laceration on her forehead and blistering burns on the backs of her hands,” she said in her most professional voice. She watched the young physician reading her notes then turned to Captain Stanley. “This may take some time so why don’t you go ahead and get her registered at the front desk and then take a seat. I’ll come and get you as soon as we’re done in here,” Sally said touching Hank’s arm and guiding him towards the exit. 

“Yea, of course…I’ll…I’ll be back soon, Becca,” he said then twisted around away from Sally’s guiding hand. He cupped his wife’s cheek, rubbing his thumb along her trembling lips. “I love you, honey,” he whispered as their lips touched briefly. He turned again, exiting the treatment room never seeing the lone tear streaking from her right eye falling silently onto the pillow.

As soon as her husband was gone, Dr. Harrison reached for his patient’s pulse along her right wrist. He felt the rapid flutter beneath his fingers, counting the beats to get a baseline before he asked her the question that he hated to ask. Even though he was a young physician, he had seen similar injuries before and he had read the notes inscribed by his trusted nurse. He looked directly at her face watching for a reaction when he asked the question that he feared might make her pulse increase significantly. “Mrs. Stanley, do you feel safe at home?”

E!

A/N: Even though a lot of this story takes place away from the station, I promise we’ll get back there very soon. I haven’t forgotten which fandom I’m writing in and I do promise more fires and rescues from our favorite boys in blue before we conclude this one. Thank you all for the encouraging words through reviews and PM’s. To those who leave reviews as a ‘guest’, I am also grateful even though I have no way of letting you know that through a response. So, please accept my thanks here.


	12. Hank's Haunting - 12

Hank’s Haunting – 12

Chet kept a watchful eye down the hallway until he saw his captain walking out of treatment room four, his features distraught. In the short time it took the tall man to walk from the treatment room to the registration area, Chet’s thoughts had flitted from his last uncomfortable conversation with the man to his breakfast conversation with Johnny. Should he approach Captain Stanley or shouldn’t he? As he continued with his indecision, he recognized the approaching footfalls, looking up just as recognition appeared on Hank’s face.

“Kelly? What are you doing here?”

Chet gulped, tossing the magazine aside and standing. “I, uh…I came to get my medical release. I hope to be back for next shift,” he replied. “Um, is everything ok, Cap? I saw you coming in with…,” he turned his shoulders nodding towards the entrance.

“It’s, Becca…she, uh, she had an accident in the kitchen this morning…grease fire. I, uh…I gotta get her registered, so I…,” he rambled, worry lines etching deeply into his forehead. 

“Oh, gee, I’m sorry, Cap. I hope she’ll be ok. Is there anything I can do?”

Hank only nodded with a meekly sounding ‘thanks’ as he continued toward the desk leaving Chet with more questions than answers.

E!

Dr. Harrison waited for an answer from his patient while he noticed a distinctive spike in her pulse rate. He allowed the quiescence to linger, his eyes never leaving her bruised face.

“Yes…most of the time. Unless I get forgetful while I’m cooking,” she said in a soft, pain-laden voice.

“And the bruises on your face…tell me about those,” he requested, quickly glancing at Sally then back down at his patient.

“Fell…slipped in the shower,” she offered without elaboration. “Why are you asking me these questions?”

“Sally, let’s go ahead and get her numbed up for the stitches and then we can treat her hands.” He looked back at his questioning patient. “We’ll get you something for the pain soon, and we’ll talk some more, ok?”

He accepted the proffered syringe from his nurse then began injecting the lidocaine along the area near the laceration. “This will sting a little at first. I want to really take my time with the stitches since it’s a facial laceration. I want to minimize the scarring for you,” he smiled continuing his injections. 

Rebecca grimaced at the burning sensation along the laceration. “Mmnh,” she moaned.

“I know, just one more…there,” he placed the used syringe back on the tray Sally was holding. “Now, let’s get those hands cleaned up and treated while that numbs up. Sally, start an IV with normal saline and draw up 5 mgs MS for those hands while I continue the exam.” He reached for Rebecca's wrist, placing her palm into one of his open hands and grasped her elbow with the other. “Mrs. Stanley, we’re going to give you morphine for the pain and it’ll help you relax while I stitch you up too. We’ll be giving you some additional fluids as a precaution and then we’ll be treating your hands with antibiotics and wrapping them as well,” he said as he began slowly and gently twisting her arm examining it for another type of injury, feeling a sense of relief when he didn’t find it. 

“The grease only splashed out on my hands,” she explained, not understanding why he was examining her forearms.

“Ok, sometimes when adrenaline floods our system during a crisis, we don’t always feel our injuries. I’d like to examine you a little more just to make sure you don’t have other injuries you aren't aware of. Is there any chance you might have landed in a way that would’ve caused you to bump your knees, ribs or abdomen when you fell?”

“I-I don’t think so,” Rebecca said worriedly, feeling the numbing spreading around her forehead.

“Ok, let me just pull back the sheet and take a look at your legs,” he began making sure he watched her reaction as he gently examined her bare legs. Seeing nothing concerning, he quickly covered them back up. “Alright, looks good.” 

“Dr. Harrison, why did you ask me if I felt safe at home?” Rebecca couldn’t stop the panic that was growing in her heart as rapidly as her pain level was increasing from the burns.

He continued his conversation with a soft nonthreatening voice while thoroughly examining her ribs, abdomen, upper torso and finishing with her collarbone and shoulders. “Any tenderness?” He watched for her reaction and noted that she merely shook her head negatively. The only grimace he saw was in response to the insertion of the IV needle. He returned the sheet over her not sure if her trembling was due to the coolness of the room or the topic of conversation. 

He watched as Sally adjusted the flow of the IV then picked up the syringe of morphine. When she looked at him raising one eyebrow, he shook his head indicating that she should wait a moment before administering the drug. He needed his patient to hear what he was saying before the drug made her less coherent. “Mrs. Stanley, often times when we see multiple injuries that didn’t occur at the same time, especially facial and hand or forearm injuries, we have to ask some very personal questions.

“Why?” She asked, already knowing the answer. “My husband isn’t like that,” her voice cracked as she fought with her emotions, turning her face away from the physician and his prying questions. “He…he loves me. You heard him say it,” she gasped, her respirations increasing.

“Yes ma’am…I understand and I don’t mean to imply that he doesn’t love you or to upset you. Sometimes things…like stress for instance, get out of hand and men can take it out on the people closest to them. It isn’t that they don’t love them; they just need help for a variety of reasons. If that’s going on with you, then let us refer you to people who can help you…and him.” Dr. Harrison laid a gentle hand on her shoulder waiting for some response from her. 

Rebecca sniffled, fighting back the urge to blurt out the difficulty her beloved had been having for the last few weeks. Finally, she stiffened her posture even though she was in a supine position and gulped. Her focus returned to the young physician. “No…no that isn’t happening...to me. I just…I fell last week and then this morning, I was looking for paper towels and...forgot about the bacon I was cooking. It…it caught on fire and I couldn’t remember what to do...my fault...not Hank's,” she said, the tension in her body increasing as she became more and more agitated.

“I see,” Dr. Harrison nodded, realizing that his patient had just allowed an emotional wall to go up denying him or anyone else from getting close to her; effectively, blocking any further personal information. “Sally, let’s go ahead with that MS.” He wanted to not only make his patient more comfortable, but to lessen her anxiety as well. “Well, that’s good to hear, Mrs. Stanley. Just remember, there’s help if you ever run across anyone who IS in that situation.”

She turned her head back towards the physician wearing a forced smile, eyes beginning to glass over as she felt the medication entering her blood stream. “He’s a fire captain, Dr. Harr'son. He saves lives and pro-property…he’s... hero…he doesn’ hur' people; 'specially not me.”

The young physician offered his relaxing patient a supportive pat on the shoulder. “Ok, Sally I think we’re ready for that suture kit.”

E!

Roy walked into his house far later than he had planned, the smell of pancakes and bacon unappealing after the large breakfast he had consumed with his crewmates. “Jo? Jo, I’m home,” he announced dropping his duffle bag on the sofa as he made his way towards the kitchen and another cup of coffee. He could smell it brewing and heard his wife running water in the sink. He also knew that their house was small enough that she had to have heard him when he called out to her. With a curious look on his face, he walked into the kitchen and saw her with her hands elbow deep in sudsy water forcefully scrubbing dishes.

“Joann? Sweetheart, I’m home.”

Joann stiffened and bit her bottom lip as she rinsed out the children’s milk glasses and set them into the dish drain to dry. Was he waiting for her to rush into his loving arms and welcome him home to his castle?

Roy looked around at the fresh flower arrangement in the middle of the table, the place settings expertly arranged. On the stove sat a large stack of pancakes and a generous supply of crisp bacon. He winced as he realized he had been so caught up in what was happening with his captain that he had completely forgotten the date. 

“Joann, baby I’m so sorry,” he walked up behind her waiting for her to turn around, unsure if she would welcome his embrace. “Jo? Did you hear me?” He said, his voice a coarse whisper.

“Yes…I heard you,” she said coldly, reaching into the sink and vigorously scrubbing the frying pan. Once it was clean, she rinsed it under the cool water and carefully placed it to dry near the glasses. She dried her hands on the dish towel then placed both hands on the counter. She didn’t want to face him; didn’t want him to see that she had been crying. On this date, ten years ago, they had promised to love each other for the rest of their lives. The following morning, they had eaten pancakes and bacon in the hotel restaurant on their honeymoon and every year since, she had always prepared the same meal for their breakfast on the morning of their anniversary. Every year since, they had shared the meal together even on the mornings when he was going on shift. But not this year. This year, he had preferred to spend the morning with Mike and Marco instead of with her. She knew he was concerned about his captain but wasn’t he concerned about her too? She felt familiar warm hands rest on her shoulder and as much as she wanted to sink back into his warm embrace, the anger and pain were too raw. His touch was uncomfortable and she twisted away from him.

Roy gulped back the bile he was beginning to taste in the back of his throat. Joann wasn’t a needy clingy woman. She was strong and independent; qualities that made her a wonderful wife and mother especially the wife of a firefighter. Now, he had let her down and he knew it. She was angry and she was hurt. But didn’t she understand that across town, Captain Stanley and his family were also hurting? Joann had always said that the families of Station 51 were a close knit group. Always looking out for each other the same way the firefighter’s looked out for one another on the job. He felt the internal conflict dividing him into warring sides each trying to prevail in his mind. “Jo, look…why don’t we put the food in the refrigerator and eat it for lunch? Then we can go out for a nice dinner like we always do on our anniversary, alright?”

Joann sniffled, reaching for a napkin to dry her eyes and nose. She did not respond to him audibly, allowing her closed body language to respond for her. She sidestepped to the stove and picked up the platter of food, taking another step towards the trash can and raking the uneaten food into the garbage then dropping the platter into the sink.

Roy watched her tossing out her hard work and felt his blood pressure rising. He jumped, startled at the clanging sound the platter made when she dropped it into the sink unnecessarily. He cringed when she walked angrily toward him and held his breath for whatever tongue lashing he was going to be the recipient of. “I hope you enjoyed your breakfast with the boys!”

“Joann, I said I was sorry. I called you so why didn’t you remind me about it then?” He pleaded.

“You made it sound like having breakfast with Marco and Mike was the most important thing you had to do today. I couldn’t just tell you to come home like you were some school boy out past curfew!” Her angry green eyes glowed.

“Jo, no one is more important to me than you and the kids. How can you even think that?” He reached out rubbing his hands up and down her upper arms hoping to loosen the tension he could see in her posture.

“I know you’re worried about Hank and Rebecca but damn it, Roy…I matter too. I needed you here…this morning…for our anniversary breakfast…couldn’t you have talked to Marco and Mike on the phone later today?”

Roy dropped his hands and hung his head. She was right and he knew it. “Yes…yes, that’s what I should’ve done. I really am sorry I forgot about today’s date. Believe me,” he continued with a glance at the garbage can. “I really wish I hadn’t missed out on your anniversary breakfast.”

Joann glared at him, unsure if his comment was sincere or loaded with sarcasm. “Ha…pancakes and bacon won’t be the only thing you’ll miss out on today,” she clinched her fists and charged past him and up the stairs. A long soaking bath was what she needed now.

E!

Hank took a seat beside his lineman, sighing as he leaned back. 

“Cap, she’s in good hands. She’ll be alright,” Chet offered, hoping he was telling the truth.

“Thank you, I-I sure hope so. She’s had a…a pretty rough week,” he said crossing one leg over the other knee and staring at the floor. He propped one elbow on the arm of the chair wondering what was happening to his wife and why it seemed to be taking so long.

“Cap?”

“Yea, Kelly?” He responded without turning to face his young lineman.

“Mind if I ask what happened?” The young man questioned timidly.

Hank hesitated for a long moment. “She was frying bacon and eggs for me for breakfast and turned to get a new roll of paper towels. Grease spattered out, caught on fire and she panicked and when I walked in I heard her scream, drop the paper towels in the burning grease and…and all hell broke loose.” His eyes glazed over as he continued to stare at the floor. “I shoved her out of the way and put the fire out but…I guess I panicked a little too and shoved her too hard. She fell into the corner of the kitchen table and,” he looked back down the corridor, she has burns on her hands and she’s getting stitches.” He stood up, propping a hand on his narrow hips and leaning nervously against the wall. “It’s my fault, Chet.”

“No, no way, Cap,” Chet stood up and mirrored the stance of his superior. “You saved her from a horrible fate you and I know all too well. You also saved your house.” He stepped back slightly hoping his movement would cause Hank to look at him. When it didn’t, he continued. “Cap, look at me. You did not hurt your wife. That’s just not who Hank Stanley is,” he pointed a finger at his Captain tapping him lightly on the chest. “You love her and you saved her. So what if she’s getting a few stitches now? Beats the hell outta what coulda happened.”

“I don’t know. I feel so…so guilty that she’s lying in there and I can’t do a damn thing about it.”

“Let’s go get some coffee, get out of this area for a few minutes. You look beat anyway,” Chet said trying to lighten the mood.

“You go on ahead. I-I want to stay here. Sally said she’d come get me as soon as I could go back in there.”

E!

“Ok, we’re through so just relax and let the morphine do its job while the rest of the saline runs through,” Dr. Harrison said removing his gloves and dropping them in the waste basket.

“Ha-ank?” She mumbled groggily.

“I’ll go get him for you,” Sally said turning towards the door. She managed to catch Dr. Harrison before he exited and looked back around his shoulder to make sure their patient didn’t over hear her. “She’s lying isn’t she?”

Dr. Harrison pressed his lips into a straight line. He appreciated Sally’s skill and professional judgment. “I honestly can’t say. She has no defensive wounds on her arms; no injuries to her torso. There’s no tenderness in her shoulders which would happen if her arms had been twisted and pulled forcefully behind her back and there’s no injuries on her boney prominences like her knees and nose, only that one cheek.” He smiled slightly when he saw the compassion in Sally’s eyes. “You’re skills and instincts are good, Sally. You recognized the symptoms immediately and you didn’t let the fact that you know them dissuade you from considering the possibility.”

She glanced again at her patient and saw her chest slowly rising and falling. “I still think it’s more than a possibility. You know how stressful his job can be?”

“She’s a grown woman, Sally. If she were a child or if she was in some way mentally incapable of making her own decisions then we would have the right to call social services or the police without her consent. But she’s an adult and if it is happening…and I’m not saying that it is…but if it is, SHE has to be the one to ask for help.” He turned back for one final glance then reached to dim the lights slightly. “She has to be the one to decide to leave; no one can make that choice for her.”

“So then, all we can do is what we just did. Give her the information and hope she uses it?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“That…and make sure that we don’t play judge and jury in a case where we don’t have all the facts. I haven’t known you long but I can tell that if Hank Stanley were lying in the next room, you’d give him the same care you just gave his wife wouldn’t you?” His question sounded rhetorical but he truly wanted an answer from the blue-eyed beauty.

She smiled slightly. “Of course,” she acknowledged. “And, I hope I am wrong about this.”

Dr. Harrison opened the door ushering her into the hallway. “So do I, Sally. So do I.”

E!

Chet was still talking to Hank trying to coax him to the cafeteria when he heard the sweet voice he recognized from the night of his injury. “Mr. Stanley, you can come with me now. Dr. Harrison will go over with you what we did and as soon as the IV is finished you can take her home.”

“Thank you, Sally, thank you.” He sidestepped his lineman without saying good-bye and headed towards treatment room four.

“Chet, you’re next so follow me,” she said with a bright cheery smile then hurriedly caught up with Hank to direct him towards office 127. “We can use Dr. Brackett’s office since he’s off today,” she said opening the door. “Dr. Harrison will be right with you.” 

Chet waited until she turned back in his direction. “Where do you want me?”

“Treatment room 1 is ready.”

Chet followed her down the hallway and into the designated treatment room. He hopped onto the examination table and began removing his shoe. He saw Sally reaching for the blood pressure cuff and knitted his eyebrows together. “What’s that for? I just need him to look at my foot.”

“I still have to get vitals on you, Mr. Kelly so settle down.” She reached for his left arm and wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm. Finding his blood pressure normal, she immediately moved to his pulse. It was a little rapid but that was often the case in the emergency department. “Are you nervous?”

“No…no of course not. Why would I be?” He said with a slight stammer. “I was just thinking about Mrs. Cap down there. She’s had a helluva, ahem,” he coughed, remembering his previous admonishment for swearing in front of Nurse Lewis. “Uh, I mean…a heck of a week hasn’t she?” He hoped his diversion tactic had worked and when Sally spoke up he realized that it had.

“Yes, stiches, burns and a bruised cheekbone all in the same week. She’s lucky she didn’t break any facial bones when she fell in the shower a few days ago,” the pretty nurse offered, assuming that Hank had informed Chet of everything that had occurred since the curly haired lineman seemed to already know about it.

“Yea…,” Chet’s heart slammed around inside his chest as he remember what Johnny had told him earlier. “Yea, she…she is…”

“Dr. Harrison will be with you in just a few minutes, as soon as he finishes talking to your captain. Good to see you again and I’m glad you’re better,” she said, backing out of the doorway leaving a stunned Chester B. Kelly sitting on the exam table.

“Slipped in the shower?” He mumbled to himself. “But, Johnny said she ran into the doorway…”


	13. Chapter 13

Hank’s Haunting – 13

Corrie yawned as she leaned back onto her pillows allowing her mother to pull the pink and light blue blanket up over her chest. The young girl yawned; her body and mind recognized the nightly ritual and began winding down even as the preschooler fought it. She had enjoyed dancing with ‘Mizzer Fet’ while her mother finished preparing their dinner but all the excitement and a full belly followed by a warm bath left her completely exhausted and drowsy.

Caroline smiled down at her sleepy-eyed daughter. With a wispy touch, she pushed the golden brown bangs away from her forehead and gently kissed the bare spot left behind. “Good night, sweetheart.”

“G’night, Mommy,” she said, quickly rolling onto her left side and curling her small body around her pale yellow teddy bear.

Caroline clicked off the lamp; the darkness immediately softened by the warm glow of the nightlight beside the door. She backed out of Corrie’s room, leaving the door slightly ajar then turned her attention to the young fireman sitting quietly in her living room. 

Caroline lingered in the shadow of the hallway second guessing the intentions of the curly haired man who now sat staring into his cup of coffee. Their growing friendship had seemed to rapidly blossom over the last few weeks and even though they hadn’t gone out on an official date, Caroline had really thought that he might ask her soon. But tonight, he had seemed distracted or was it disinterest she was reading into his behavior on this night? Insecurities nearly stole her breath as she began to think that maybe he was thinking of a nice way to end the night quickly and…perhaps, what she thought was the beginning of something more.

She steadied herself steeling her nerves then stepped into the light of the living room. She quickly realized that her guest hadn’t even noticed her walking back into the room. She pasted on a smile and sat down beside him on her small couch, not nearly as close as she had initially hoped.

Chet was brought back from his musing by the feeling of someone sitting down next to him. He immediately jerked his head up and smiled at his pretty hostess. “She asleep already?”

“Yes, I think ‘The Hustle’ really tired her out,” she said hiding the disappointment in her voice.

“She’s a great kid, Caroline.”

“Thank you,” she responded with a bashful grin, nervously biting her bottom lip in search of the right phrase to give him a way out of his predicament.

Chet knew he had not been a very gracious guest. He had been looking forward to this night since she had extended the invitation the previous morning but all his hopes for the evening had been dashed at Rampart General Hospital earlier that morning. Even though he had been granted his medical release and would be returning to duty day after tomorrow, his world had come crashing down around him with just a few words from Nurse Lewis. While Caroline had prepared Corrie for bed, Chet had been thinking about the possibilities. Perhaps he had misunderstood what Johnny had said at breakfast or had Johnny misunderstood Roy? Maybe Sally had gotten the wrong message from Mrs. Stanley or…..or could it be that what Roy and Marco suspected had really happened? Now, here he sat alone with a beautiful woman beside him and if he was reading her signals correctly, she might even be developing a romantic interest in him. But his mind just couldn’t go there right now…not tonight. Should he talk to her about it? Could he trust her or would she think he was sticking his nose in a place where it didn’t belong? He leaned forward, setting the lukewarm cup of coffee on the coffee table then leaned back exhaling.

“Caro…”

“Chet,” she began just as he interrupted her. Both smiled knowingly. “Go ahead.”

“I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate the wonderful home cooked meal and the company…and the dancing,” he snickered. 

When he hesitated, she reached over grasping his hand in her smaller more delicate one. She felt him shiver at her touch and again confusion overtook her. “I don’t…I mean, I…I just don’t want you to feel obligated to help Corrie and me out,” she felt the lump growing in her throat and looked down at her lap. “I mean, I really do enjoy spending time with you and…and obviously Corey now loves to dance but…but,” she felt the stinging beginning behind her eyes.

“Uh, I’m sorry…did I…ah, I mean,” he stammered blowing out his breath. “Geez, I’m being dumped and we haven’t even had a real date yet,” he mumbled, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans and standing.

“Dumped? Wha…”

Chet held up his hand to stop the gentle explanation he figured was coming. “It’s ok, Caroline. I get it, I do. I don’t blame you. I’m too short, too silly, my hair’s too curly, I’m…”

“You’re too wrong, Chet.” Caroline sat stunned as her guest continued mumbling about his own perceived inadequacies. She immediately stood up reaching for his arm, finally seeing the despair on his handsome features. “Chet…I’m just letting you know that you don’t have to, um…you know…spend time with me…us,” she glanced over his shoulder down the hallway towards her daughter’s room then continued. “…if you don’t want to…it’s ok, really.”

Chet cut his eyes at Caroline and gave his mustache a tweaking. “But if I DO want to? Would you WANT me to?”

Caroline released a big grin. “Of course, I would. Chet, I think you’re great but…I’ve got… well, baggage I guess you’d call it and…”

“Baggage? Corrie?” Chet was beginning to feel defensive at the tone in her voice in reference to her child.

“No, no…just that…I’ve been married before and…I still have to go to physical therapy and, well…”

“We’re terrible, you know that?” He turned to face her completely, drinking in her natural beauty. “We’re standing here alone in your living room telling each other all the worst things about ourselves.”

“Well, I believe in being honest,” she smiled nervously.

His grin peaked out from beneath his bushy mustache as his arms met behind her back. She didn’t shirk away from him, leaning in slightly instead. “We’d make terrible used car dealers, huh?”

“I guess we would,” she said, her voice softening as his face drew nearer to her own. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek as his blue eyes darted back and forth looking deeply into her eyes. She felt her knees grow weak at his nearness. Somehow, her arms found their way to his muscular shoulders and she feared he might hear her heart beating fiercely inside her chest. 

“I do owe you an apology for being so spaced out. I’ve got a lot on my mind…from, uh…well…it has to do with one of the guys at the station and…um, I promise that if you’ll give me another chance, I’ll make it up to you.” His voice was barely a whisper as he dipped his head lower.

“I’d really like that,” she said in barely a whisper, licking her lips to moisten them, anticipating her first kiss since she lost her husband over three years ago. 

Their noses briefly touched; his mustache tickling her face and bringing back her smile. When their lips briefly met the sensation was electrifying. Chet pulled back momentarily, gauging her reaction to make sure he hadn’t moved too quickly. When he saw that her eyes were hooded, he smiled inwardly and dipped back down for another kiss when a shrieking noise startled them.

“Arrrrgh…NO….mommy…mom-myyyy!”

Both adults scrambled down the hallway toward Corrie’s room, Caroline ignoring the pain in her back from the sudden movement and Chet adjusting his clothing seeking a bit of comfort below his belt.

“Corrie-baby…mommy’s here, mommy’s here…what’s wrong sweetheart?” She asked opening the door and cradling her crying child, instinctively beginning to rock back and forth.

Chet reached out and gently stroked the back of Corey’s hair as the shuddering cries continued. “What happened, ladybug?”

“He-he ate m-my do-nut,” she sniffled.

Caroline looked at Chet’s confused face in the soft glow of the nightlight. She shrugged her shoulders to let him know she didn’t understand either. “Who ate your donut?”

“That…that big fish.”

Again, the two adults shared confused glances. 

“What big fish, ladybug?” Chet asked still using his consoling voice.

“Fwipper…he ate my donut,” she said beginning to settle down.

Understanding smiles crossed the faces of both Chet and Caroline but Caroline was the one who spoke. “Did he jump out of the water and grab it from your hand like he does those fish when Bud and Sandy feed him?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, her voice growing softer as sleep began to surround her once again.

“Well, Mr. Chet will just take him right back to the ocean so he can’t eat your donuts anymore ok?” Chet said, kneeling down on the floor and pretending to pull something large from underneath her bed. He wrestled around a little with the unseen creature, grateful for the near darkness in the child’s room. 

He stood up turning his back to the tired child and continuing his miming struggle with a wayward bottle-nosed dolphin and releasing his own version of a Flipper-like chatter. Unfortunately, his sound effects sounded more like Woody the Woodpecker than a bottle-nosed dolphin and he just hoped that the three year old wouldn’t know the difference. “Ok, Flipper, it’s back to the water for you. And no. More. Eating. Corrie’s. Donuts, ya here?” He said as he made his way out of the bedroom and continued his rant to the front door. “You can do that tail walk of yours all the way back to Coral Key Marine Preserve, pal.” He opened it then closed it back, satisfied that Corey believed her room was now free of donut stealing marine life. He returned to the couch, hoping to pick up where he and Caroline had left off when they had been interrupted. 

Momentarily, Caroline walked back down the hallway. “Ok, I think she’s down for the night now. I’m really sorry about that but…you were wonderful.”

“Nah, no need to apologize,” he said with a wave of his hand. “That’s just kids,” he stated matter-of-factly, his face much more animated than it had been fifteen minutes earlier. “But…thanks.”

She looked at him with a sense of sincerity in her eyes. “So, wanna talk about it?”

“Um, not much to say really. I guess she watched an episode of ‘Flipper’ this afternoon and…”

“No, Chet. I mean, about what’s bothering you. I’m a good listener,” she offered looking at him with hopeful eyes. 

“Oh…that,” he said looking back down at his lap. His hesitation was painfully obvious. Did he trust her?

E!

The ringing telephone caught Johnny off guard and he quickly picked up the receiver, cradling it between his shoulder and ear, the same way he so often held the biophone handset while his hands were busy with a patient. Tonight, he was busy pulling a TV dinner out of his oven while trying not to burn his hands. “Hello…owe, shit,” he cursed, dropping the hot metal pan on his stove.

“John? Are you ok?”

Johnny gulped with the realization that he had just used profanity while answering his phone…and the voice on the other end of the line belonged to his captain.

“Uh, yea, yea…Cap?”

“Ahem, sorry to bother you, John but I was just wondering if…well, if maybe you could come over in about an hour or so and change Becca’s bandages?”

“Bu, uh…bandages? Wha…what happened?” Johnny’s mind was reeling and he suddenly realized he hadn’t given his superior his answer. “I mean, yea…yea, of course, I will.”

Johnny could hear the fatigue in his captain’s voice as he began telling his younger paramedic what had happened when he walked into his home after their shift had ended.

Johnny held the phone in one hand and wrapped his free arm across his chest tucking his hand beneath his arm. He released a long slow whistle. “Oh man, that’s really….wow,” he exhaled audibly. “I’m glad you got home when you did or…,” Johnny squinted his eyes shut at the thought. He knew he didn’t need to remind his captain of what could have happened if he had been even one minute later arriving home. 

“Yes…yes, I’ve thought about it all day, John.” Hank hung his head, feeling as if he’d aged forty years in less than twelve hours. “She’s on some potent pain medication so she’s slept a good bit of the day. I’m going to try to get her to eat something and then help her with her bath. Any time after, oh say…eight-thirty would be great. I really do appreciate it, John.”

“Sure, sure…no problem. I’ll see ya then…bye, Cap.” Johnny returned the handset to the cradle and stood staring at his distorted reflection in the round metallic disk on which the rotary dial was positioned. His mind raced thinking of the outcome had the station been toned out before they had been relieved by ‘B’ shift. His thoughts then turned to Roy and Marco. Would they believe that Mrs. Stanley’s injuries were purely accidental or would they somehow blame their captain? He shook his head clearing it of that last thought, his dark bangs falling down around his arching eyebrows. He looked back at the stove and decided to try to eat the TV dinner then gather up his medical bag and drive over to the Stanley residence. 

E!

“Please, Becca…just a few more bites, ok?” Hank held the spoon of chicken and rice soup in front of his wife’s mouth waiting patiently for her to open it. He knew she didn’t like feeling helpless but with her hands bandaged and the pain medication making her arms feel limp, she really couldn’t manage to feed or bathe herself, not tonight anyway. 

Rebecca slowly chewed and swallowed the warm soup even though she had no appetite. That was one side effect Dr. Harrison had warned her about. She hadn’t anticipated feeling so drained but it had been many years since she had needed anything for pain, not since Vickie was born.

She allowed him to help her into a tub of warm water and closed her eyes as he lathered up her body with soap then gently washed it away. His touch was soothing and his gentle ministrations lulled her into such a relaxed state that she nearly fell asleep in the tub. She roused back up when she heard the plug removed and the water gurgling on its journey down the pipes. Without words, Hank gently guided her to her feet keeping a firm grip on her as he dried her off, then eased her out of the tub and to their bed. Her eyes were closed as he dressed her in her bed clothes then helped her lean back against the pillows. 

Hank noted her contorted features and knew that she was uncomfortable. He had tried to be as gentle as he possibly could but it seemed that no matter what he did, he caused her pain. What he didn’t know was that the pain she was feeling had nothing to do with her burned hands or the head wound she had received. Her pain was deep inside her chest, in the depths of her heart. She had been longing to feel Hank’s touch, to once again experience the gentle side of her husband. Yet, it had taken a near tragedy to get to this point and that fact was breaking her heart. Would he even be here now had she not had the momentary lapse of reason? She struggled to restrain the tears that were pooling behind her closed eyelids just as she heard the doorbell ring.

“That’s probably John. He’s going to change your dressings,” Hank explained in a voice husky with fatigue.

“I’ll get it, Dad.” Vickie’s voice echoed down the hallway.

Hank was grateful that his daughters were at home tonight and even though they were upset about their mother’s injuries, they really had no idea of just how bad things could have been. Both Missy and Vickie had helped with cleaning up the mess in the kitchen and then taking care of the laundry and vacuuming before heading to their rooms to work on their homework. He closed his eyes, silently thankful for the blessing of his family. A soft knock on the bedroom door brought him back from his musings. 

“Dad, it’s Mr. Johnny,” came the meek voice of his younger daughter. 

“Come on in, John,” he called out pulling the covers up over his wife and tucking her in as if she were a small child.

“Hey, Cap,” Johnny said a little louder than a stage whisper seeing that Rebecca was resting. “How’s she doing?”

“I’ll be…ok, Johnny. Th-thanks for…for doing this,” she said tiredly, eyes still closed.

“Oh, I’m happy to help anytime, Mrs. Stanley,” he said pulling his shears out of his bag and beginning to remove the old bandages. He was halfway through the second bandage when he took a closer look at his patient’s face and noticed the bruising Roy had told him about. 

Rebecca allowed her eyes to open to slits but it was enough to see that Johnny was eyeing her suspiciously. “I must…be a…sight, huh?”

“Oh you look just fine,” he said with his trademark grin. “The bruising will all go away soon and you’ll have just a faint scar on your forehead that your hair will cover up,” Johnny said hoping to offer her a bit of encouragement. 

“Yea…clum-sy me,” she slurred as the pain pills began affecting her speech. “Slipped in…in…show-er.”

Johnny’s world tilted and he felt waves of heat washing over his chest. He knew he had heard her correctly and yet Roy had been so certain that she had run into a door frame on her way to the bathroom during the night. He continued applying the ointment then reached for the gauze daring a glance at his captain. He saw the older man staring at the floor, his face pale. 

“Cap? Cap, you a’right?” Johnny asked as he began wrapping her left wrist.

“Yea…you need something?” Hank asked concerned.

“No, I’ve got it. You just seemed like you were deep in thought. I’m sure you’re both tired,” he said finishing up the wrapping and cleaning up his mess.

“Yes…I’m sure we’ll sleep well tonight,” the older man said with a weary forced smile.

“Is there…anything I can do to, ya know…help out?” Johnny wasn’t sure why he asked the question except he was now beginning to feel an uneasiness in the pit of his stomach.

“You’ve been a big help, Johnny,” Hank said standing and ushering the younger man out the door leaving his wife breathing deeply and rhythmically behind them. “I really appreciate your help tonight.”

“No problem, Cap. Call me anytime. You want me to plan on coming back tomorrow night to redress them?”

“Uh…that might not be a bad idea. I’d…we’d really appreciate that...if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, o’ course not.” He stuck his hand out and shook the hand of his captain making a mental note of the weakness in the older man’s grip. 

Over and over again on his way back to his apartment he replayed the conversation with Mrs. Stanley. She was under the influence of narcotics but was that enough for her to get her story confused? And if it was, wouldn’t Captain Stanley have corrected her? Maybe Roy and Marco misunderstood what she had told them. Back and forth his thoughts bounced like a tennis ball in play. “Damn it!” He growled inside his rover, slamming a hand down on the steering wheel in the process. He and Roy hadn’t parted ways on friendly terms at the end of their shift this morning. They seemed to be on opposite sides of a tug-of-war…and now Johnny’s grip seemed to be loosening. He knew he’d have to call Roy as soon as he got home.

E!

“So call him.”

“I guess that is the only way to know for sure, huh?” Chet looked into Caroline’s eyes and saw understanding, compassion and a flicker of something else he wasn’t quite sure of. 

Caroline held his hand a little tighter stroking the back of his knuckles with her thumb. “Yes, and I know you need some privacy so I promise I won’t be offended if you want to go back to your apartment and make the call now.”

“But, I’m really enjoying tonight,” he said in a voice that sounded a bit whiney even to him.

“So am I but Chet we both know that you won’t sleep until you call him and it wouldn’t be fair to call him late.” Caroline truly was enjoying her time with Chet now that they had gotten past their earlier misunderstanding. 

“Aarrrgh,” he groaned throwing his head back staring at the ceiling. He knew she was right and yet he didn’t want to leave. Then an idea popped into his mind. “Ok, but…only if you’ll let me take you out on the next Saturday night that I have off?”

Her smile was answer enough. 

“Ahem…that’ll be next Saturday by the way so be thinking about where you want to go?” He stood up, reaching back for her hand. “And of course we’ll take Corrie too,” he said with a wink. 

She chuckled a bit. “Chet, that’s very sweet of you.” Truthfully, she didn’t have a sitter so she was glad that Corrie was indeed invited. Her heart was warm and her eyes were sparkling as she walked him to her door. 

Once again, they stood toe to toe staring longingly into each other’s eyes. “Thank you, Caroline…for everything,” he whispered into her ear as he tilted her chin upwards. Lowering his face to meet hers, Chet felt a jolt as their lips met. The kiss was tender but reserved. He dared not push for more until he knew it was what she wanted too. He slowly pulled back opening his eyes to see her with her eyes remaining closed. 

A moment later, she opened her eyes and smiled softly at the man standing in her doorway. “You’re very welcome. Call me if you need to talk…I’d like to know how everything turns out. If you don’t mind, that is.” She hoped she hadn’t said too much.

“I will. I’ll give you a call tomorrow…or stop by or something,” he said not wanting their time together to end. Suddenly, an idea came to him and he smiled with a hint of mischief on his face.

She merely nodded as he backed away from her doorway, hands in his back pockets. When he turned around to walk away, she closed the door and leaned against it with her right shoulder, a soft smile on her face. She felt something in her heart that she had been missing for a long time, contentment. 

E!

Chet listened to the ringing on the other end of the line. A familiar voice with a distinctive Hispanic accent answered on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Marco…it’s Chet…you got a minute?”

E!

Across town, Johnny pulled a beer from his refrigerator, popped the top and sat down. Mentally, he listed every possible scenario for the confusion with Rebecca Stanley’s stories and each time he came back to the same thing. He continued to drink as he stared at the black phone hanging on the wall. Finally, with a belch he stood up walking over to the phone and dialed the number he had known for years.

“Hello?”

“Hey Roy…uh, I hope I’m not interrupting something…,” he began.

“Trust me, Junior. You aren’t interrupting anything…unfortunately.” Roy shifted his position on the couch thinking about what he was missing on his anniversary night. The kids were at Joann’s sister’s house which was the usual arrangement on this night every year but tonight Joann was alone in their bed and he had been relegated to their couch. He grunted trying to find a comfortable spot. “So, what’s going on with you?”

“Roy, um… will you tell me again what Mrs. Stanley said happened to her face last week?”

E!


	14. Hanks Haunting - 14

Hank’s Haunting – 14

“Hey, Marco…it’s Chet. Got a minute?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

Chet’s breathy sigh into the phone sent a chill down Marco’s spine. It hadn’t been that long ago that he’d held his crying younger partner in his arms on the floor of Chet’s bathroom after what some might consider a passive suicide attempt. Marco and the rest of the guys honestly believed that he hadn’t intended to hurt himself but he had reached the end of his proverbial rope and took a big risk with his life. That had occurred over a month ago and Chet had come a long way in recovering from his depressive episode especially after his heart to heart talk with his parents but the feeling of holding the younger man as he wept shuddering sobs on that morning was still fresh in Marco’s mind. Now, he sat listening to his partner breathing on the other end of the phone and wondering if perhaps something had caused him to have a setback in his recovery.

“Come on, amigo. Talk to me,” he encouraged trying his best to keep the alarm out of his voice.

Chet finally found the courage to speak up. “I…I know it’s getting kind of late but…I need to ask you a question, ok?” 

“Sure,” Marco responded taking a seat in his recliner, tamping down the urge to bolt out of his apartment and rush over to Chet’s place.

“Um, wha…what did Mrs. Stanley tell you and Roy the other night when you guys took Cap home from the bar?”

Marco leaned back in the chair wondering if he should share that experience with his friend. “How’d you find out about that?” Marco asked, his voice sounding tired.

“Johnny came by here yesterday morning and brought me breakfast and he mentioned it to me and…,”

“Yea,” Marco interrupted. “He and Roy had a few cross words about it before the shift ended. John doesn’t believe us but Chet…I was there. I heard it. I saw it. It’s true.”

“Well, I saw Cap bringing her into Rampart today when I went in to get my medical clearance and…and…,”

“Chet?” Marco sat back up quickly, adrenaline flooding his system in the same way it did when he was jolted from a dead sleep by the klaxons. “What happened? Why was she at the hospital?”

“Ok, ok, ok…let me start from the beginning,” Chet said, back-peddling when he heard the alarm in Marco’s voice. 

E!

Roy shifted the receiver to his other ear and ran a hand through his thinning hair. After spending the day arguing with his wife the last thing he wanted to do was argue with his partner again too. He simply couldn’t take any more.

“Why do you want to rehash all this again, Johnny? I know what Marco and I saw and I know what we heard. Your ass wasn’t there so just get off your high horse and stop trying to….”

“Whoa…time out,” Johnny jumped in. “You sound grumpy as hell. You sure I didn’t interrupt somethin’?” Johnny spoke into the phone as he rummaged around in his sparse refrigerator for another beer.

“Yes…I’m sure…now what’s going on?”

The younger man popped the top off the beverage and took a long drink as he stretched the curly black phone cord over the back of his couch and sat down. “A’right, look…I know I was kinda rude to ya about it last shift and…well, promise me you won’t jump to any conclusions or…or, bite my head off or anything?”

Roy rubbed his forehead glad that his partner couldn’t see him rolling his eyes through the phone. “Yea,” he groaned tiredly. “I’ll be a good boy…now, why do you want to hear the story again? It’s not like you believe it.”

“Yea, well…I’m beginning to wonder.”

"What? Why? Spill it, Johnny.” Roy sat up as he listened disbelievingly to the story Johnny told him about his visit to the Stanley house.

E!

Morning dawned finding Roy with a kinked neck from sleeping in an awkward position on the couch. Actually, it was more of a nap than deep sleep. Between his angry wife, his conversation with his partner and Mrs. Stanley’s most recent injuries, Roy had done more tossing and turning than sleeping.

Joann made her way into the kitchen still seething over her husband’s lack of attention the previous day. She huffed around the kitchen justifying her behavior and intentionally clanging the dishes loudly. If she couldn’t sleep then neither would he. After all, she was the one who did nearly all of the work around the house. She was the one who spent hours maintaining a clean home, taking the kids to all their events, meeting with the teachers and handling school functions alone. Parent teacher meetings seemed to always happen when he was on shift. Stomach viruses, the flu and sibling arguments also seemed to primarily happen when he was at the station. Then, he would come home expecting her to have prepared his breakfast, have fresh sheets on the bed and if the night had been a particularly slow one and the kids were at school, he expected her to be between those sheets waiting for him too. Normally, none of those things were issues as each was rewarding in its own way. She knew what she was getting into when she married a fireman but just once a year…just one day out of 365…why couldn’t the day be about her? She sniffled, wiping her damp cheeks then reached for a coffee cup which slipped out of her wet fingers and crashed into the sink breaking into several pieces.

“Stop breaking the damn dishes, Jo. I’m awake already!” Roy groaned, assuming she had broken the cup on purpose just to keep him from sleeping.

Joann leaned against the cabinet gripping the edge of the sink and blowing out her breath. She shook her head from side to side in disbelief. Even a tiny mishap was all about him. Her mouth hung slightly open as she tried to steady her nerves so as to keep from throwing something at him. “I should’ve listened to my mother,” she mumbled to herself, just loud enough for Roy to hear.

Roy threw the afghan off his legs and winced as he sat up, stretching his aching neck. He stood up, walking into the kitchen wearing only a t-shirt and boxers and stood staring at his wife cracking eggs into a bowl. 

“Jo, I’m sorry…I don’t know what else to say.”

She grabbed the whisk and began whipping the eggs without responding to him.

“Jo?” He waited while she continued to beat the eggs. “Jo, I forgot, ok? Don’t take it out on the innocent eggs alright? They didn’t do anything.” His attempt at a little humor was unsuccessful.

“Well, I never forget the things that are important to you,” she spat back venomously.

Roy closed his eyes, his chin sinking down to his chest. She was right and he knew it. “I know, Jo. I know and I do appreciate it…all of it. I just…I’ve been so worried about Rebecca that I just…,”

“Took me for granted?”

“NO,” he responded cringing at the sound of his raised voice. “No, I have never taken you for granted. I just…I forgot the date, that’s all. I just forgot. I’m sorry…more sorry than you could ever know.” He waited for some response from her but when she stood staring at the bowl he decided to continue. 

“Joann,” he said softly but from a distance. “Joann DeSoto, I love you so much and I’m so sorry. I wish I could turn back time and fix what I broke but I can’t. All I can do is tell you that I’m sorry. I know you’re really pissed off right now so…I’m gonna, uh, I’m gonna go see Johnny and give you some time to cool down.” He needed to follow up with his partner after their conversation last night and he didn’t want to do it on the phone in front of Joann, not after this whole nightmare with the Stanley’s had caused him to forget their anniversary.

Roy watched as her shoulders seemed to relax a little but she never let her guard down. When she didn’t speak, he simply turned and headed for their bedroom to get dressed.

Joann heard the water running in the shower as she poured the eggs into the frying pan and dropped the toast into the toaster. By the time the toast had popped up and the eggs were done, she heard the telephone ringing. She rolled her eyes assuming that the caller was Roy’s younger partner. “Oh, he’s coming over there, Johnny so why do you have to call so early?” She mumbled to herself turning off the stove and heading over to pick up the receiver. She briefly thought about not answering it but since the kids were with her sister, she decided she had better make sure nothing was wrong with them. 

“DeSoto residence,” she huffed.

“Joann? This is Mike Stoker. May I speak to Roy please?”

“Um, he’s in the shower right now. Can I have him call you back?” Her curiosity was getting the best of her.

“Yes, that would be great. Uh, it’s about Rebecca Stanley…she got hurt again yesterday and…um, did Roy ask you about talking to her?”

Joann had to think quickly to cover up the fact that she and Roy had not talked about the Stanley’s. In fact, the older couple seemed to be the reason for the anger she was feeling right now, at least indirectly.

“He did mention Rebecca but, uh, you said she got hurt again, what happened?”

“I talked to Marco last night and Chet said that when he went to get his medical release for next shift that Cap was bringing her in with a large cut on her head and both hands burned.” He hesitated when he heard her gasp.

“Oh my god, that’s horrible,” she said, bringing trembling fingers to cover her mouth. “Is, is she alright?”

“Johnny’s changing her dressings daily and…when he mentioned something about her bruises, the ones from Saturday…,” He paused thinking of a way to say what he wanted to say without sounding accusatory. “Anyway, it seems she’s changed her mind about what happened.”

“Mmm? What do you mean?”

“What she told Johnny was different than the story she told Marco and Roy when they took Cap home,” he said in a strained voice.

“Oh no….um, I think I need to go visit her tomorrow…when he isn’t there,” she said running a hand through her hair.

“That’d be great, Joann. Thank you and just have Roy give me a call later, please.”

“I will, thank you, Mike. Goodbye.” She continued holding the phone for a moment after Mike hung up. Was her friend really being hurt by her husband? Slowly, she hung up the receiver and returned to put the toast and eggs on a plate for Roy. This had been her routine for years and she did it without even thinking about how angry she was at him right now. She poured herself a cup of coffee and took it out to the back deck to drink it in the cool morning air. She needed to clear her head and think about what to say to Rebecca Stanley tomorrow. Compared to the Stanley’s situation, what she was going through was insignificant and yet, she couldn’t let it go.

Joann knew she was being a little too sensitive. After all, her husband had been upset and worried about their friend. But in her heart of hearts, she was still deeply wounded. She was feeling unimportant and taken for granted by her husband, the feelings overwhelming her after he forgot their anniversary. Everything she did was for her family - Roy and the kids. Never did she ever do anything for herself. Roy’s job didn’t pay him nearly what he was worth. That wasn’t his fault and she certainly didn’t hold it against him. She was proud of him but the pay didn’t leave much extra money for frivolous spending such as manicures and pedicures. She couldn’t spend a lot of money on shoes and handbags like some women she knew. She shook her head reaching for her coffee cup. Joann was not an extravagant spender and she wouldn’t be even if money were not an issue. It just wasn’t who she was. She sipped her coffee as she contemplated that thought for a few moments. Who was Joann DeSoto? Was that the problem? Her entire identity was as Mrs. Roy DeSoto, mother of Chris and Jennifer DeSoto. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her family, she loved them very much but…

A slamming car door pulled her back from her musings. He was leaving her to go visit with Johnny. Yesterday, the Stanley’s were more important than her and today Roy’s paramedic partner was more important. They were going to discuss her, no doubt…and the Stanley’s. “Shoot,” she spouted. She had not told him about Mike’s phone call and now he was gone. Mike would see him tomorrow at the station anyway, she decided. “I’m not Roy’s personal secretary,” she mumbled sarcastically then turned up the cup and finished her morning liquid wake-up call, her ire returning with a vengeance. 

 

E!

 

Johnny heard the banging on his front door and forced one eye open to glance at the clock. “What the…”

Roy knocked harder the second time and finally heard movement inside the small apartment. When the door cracked open, the face that greeted him belonged to a man who only moments before had obviously been deeply asleep. “Roy?” He questioned, squinting his eyes into the morning light. “Somethin’ wrong?”

Roy shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “Yea…kind of…can I come in? I brought some bear claws?” He held up the beige pastry bag as if using it as bait.

“Oh, yea, sure,” Johnny said closing the door and unlatching the chain then opening it up to admit his partner. “C’mon in…I’ll get some coffee started.”

“Thanks.”

Johnny stumbled across his living room as he made his way to his kitchen. He really wasn’t fully awake yet. “So, what’d ya do to make Joann kick you outta the house so early?” he asked pulling the Folgers can from the shelf.

Roy hesitated before answering. He knew Johnny had no idea that he had just hit a raw nerve. He watched as Johnny dumped a scoop of the dark aromatic grounds into the basket of the coffee pot and turned on the stove. When he was returning to the living room, Roy decided to just blurt it out. “I forgot our anniversary.”

Johnny allowed a half grin to show beneath his sleepy eyes. “Well then you better get back home don’tcha think?” He snickered plopping down on the couch and propping his bare feet on his coffee table.

“Too late,” Roy spoke solemnly. “It was yesterday.”

“Shit!” Johnny nearly shouted. “Why didn’t you tell me? I knew I was interrupting something last night when I called. Oh, man, Roy…I’m really sorry. I’d never interrupt you when you’re…”

Roy held up his hand to halt the Johnny rant before he got too far. “Johnny, I said I forgot it. All you interrupted was me lying on the couch trying to sleep for the night while she sulked in our bedroom.”

Johnny let out a long slow whistle. “Oooh, sorry man. That’s…that’s tough.”

“Yea, well…I didn’t come over here to talk about my problems.” Roy looked over at his partner who was running his fingers through his shaggy hair.

“Cap?” Johnny asked knowingly.

Roy nodded. They were going back on shift tomorrow and he knew they had to do something.

E!

Chet kept checking his watch, not wanting to knock on her door too early and yet anxious to see her again. He had already gone out and bought a pink box for them to share knowing how excited Corrie would be after her nightmare the previous night. Finally, at ten o’clock, he headed down the stairs to the ground floor.

Caroline heard a familiar rapping on her front door. “I think I recognize that knock. Guess who might be here, Corrie?” She asked looking down at her daughter playing in front of their small television set.

A big grin spread across the child’s cherub-like face. “Mizzer Fet?”

Caroline’s heart warmed inside her chest hoping that her daughter was right. She peeked through the peep hole and saw curly dark hair and giggled. She opened the door and was greeted warmly by Chet holding a pink box. “Good morning. Come in.”

Chet stepped inside just as a bolt of three year old energy attached herself to his leg. “Weeelll, good morning, ladybug. Look what I brought.” He held up the pink box to show her.

“What is it?” She asked bouncing in place.

“Well, see I had a long talk with Flipper last night and he felt really sad about eating your donut so he sent me to the donut store to buy us all some more. Wasn’t that nice of him?”

“Yeah!” she clapped her pudgy hands together excitedly.

“See Corrie, he’s a nice dolphin isn’t he?” Caroline asked giving Chet a wink. 

“And I know a fireman who’s a nice guy too,” Chet said flirtatiously winking back at her.

“Oh? And who might that be?” Caroline asked feigning innocence, accepting the box and heading into the kitchen leaving Chet and Corrie in the living room.

“Ladybug…what are we going to do with your mother, huh?” He asked rhetorically as he reached down and swept the grinning child into his arms and followed Caroline into the kitchen.

After Corrie finished her donut and milk – and got a thorough hand and face washing from her mother - she returned to her television program while Chet and Caroline drank coffee and finished their pastries. Caroline giggled at the way Chet licked his fingers which brought a blush of embarrassment to the Irishman’s face.

“Uh, sorry.”

“For what?” She asked, then stuck an index finger in her mouth, laughing as soon as the sticky residue had been licked clean. “So, how’d it go last night?”

“Oh, I had a great time. The company was fantastic and the food was terrific and…,” he paused to glance up at her with a sly knowing grin. “But that’s not what you mean is it?”

She shook her head then curled her loose hair behind her ear. “It’s ok though. You don’t have to tell me. It’s none of my business really. I just thought it might help to talk about it.”

Chet saw the immediate remorse shadowing her face and wondered why she had gotten so serious all of a sudden. “No, no…I’m just acting stupid. Um, I’d like to share it with you if you have time and…and it isn’t a very pleasant story.” He watched for her reaction. 

She reached out, using her thumb to wipe a spot of chocolate from his chin. “You aren’t being stupid. Don’t ever say that about yourself. And I have all the time in the world for you,” she said softly, her eyes melting.

“Ahem,” Chet cleared his throat; her touch had sent sensations through his body making it respond in a way that left him longing for more. “Well, it seems to be true.” He looked up from the table where he had been staring and into her caring eyes. “What she told Marco and Roy was completely different than what she told the staff at Rampart.”

“I’m sorry, Chet. I really am.”

“How could he do it? How could any man hurt the woman he loves, mother of his children?” He reached for her hand needing to feel connected with her. “I don’t understand it, Caroline. I guess I never will,” he said, his voice seeming to fade as he squeezed her hand.

“Well, I hope you never do understand it. I don’t want you to ever think like those guys.” She softly caressed his rough dry hand.

“But, Cap…he…he isn’t like that.” He stared into the distance over her shoulder, his vision blurring as his mind strolled through the years he had spent under the command of Hank Stanley. “I’ve always had so much respect for him and now,” he shook his head wistfully. “Now I just don’t know.”

“Exactly.” She spoke up softly touching the side of his face, turning it slightly so she could look into his gorgeous blue eyes. 

“Huh?”

“You don’t know. You haven’t talked to either of them directly and truthfully…the Stanley’s are the only ones who know what’s going on.” She dared to rub her thumb slowly along his lower lip. Feelings and desires she’d managed to tamp down for years were beginning to resurface startling her a little. She pulled her hand away from his face, ashamed of such intimate contact at this time. She cleared her throat, quickly looking away and collecting her thoughts before continuing on. “Don’t judge them just yet. That’s all I’m saying.”

 

E!

 

The following morning, a very sleep-deprived Hank Stanley helped his wife get dressed then began packing his duffle bag. He stuck his hand into the inside pocket ensuring that both bottles were still there then added the extra underwear and socks he would need. He was almost out of his prescription pills and he knew there was no way Dr. Brackett was going to refill it since he hadn’t made the appointment with the psychologist. Maybe he should talk to Dr. Harrison. He seemed nice enough. He decided that if he had the chance, he might talk with the young physician before returning home tomorrow morning.

“Becca, are you sure you’ll be alright here until the girls get home from school?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine, Hank. Please don’t worry about me. You’ve got enough to worry about,” she added as she touched a bandaged hand to the bedroom door gently pushing it open.

Hank felt his nostrils flaring. He fought to control himself but her remark caught him off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She hesitated in the hallway closing her eyes and shaking her head. She turned around knowing that the girls were eating breakfast in the kitchen and not wanting them to see him get angry. “I just mean that when you’re on shift, you have your men and yourself to worry about and you need to be able to focus on them so…”

“So I don’t kill one of them?” He snarled.

“Hank don’t,” she groaned leaning her head against the wall. “Not again…not now, please?”

He shouldered his duffle bag and walked briskly past her and out the front door. By the time he had backed his car out of the driveway, he realized that he had walked out on his family without any final words of goodbye; something he had sworn a little over a month ago that he’d never do again. He ran a hand through his thick dark hair swearing under his breath. How much longer could he go on like this?

He pulled into the parking lot and quickly made his way inside the apparatus bay. Both the squad and the engine were gone so he entered the kitchen to start a fresh pot of coffee. While it was brewing, he walked to the locker room and stowed away his duffle bag. He turned to leave then reached back inside the locker. Digging around the inner pocket, he removed both bottles and tapped out a dose of each then forcefully shoved them back inside the bag and tossed the bag to the back of his locker. He pocketed the pills then walked out just as his engineer arrived. 

Mike had spent the previous day taking care of long neglected chores around his house. His mind had been on his captain and his wife since the night before when Marco had called him letting him know what Chet had seen and heard at Rampart. He had left a message for Roy to call him but when the paramedic never returned his call, he decided to do something more productive than sit and brood. He had trimmed his hedges, raked his leaves and repaired the stuck window in his bedroom. He figured Roy had probably called while he was outside and he hadn’t heard the phone ring. After all, it wasn’t like Roy not to return a phone call, especially after he had told Joann just how important it was. But, working outside in the fresh air - as fresh as Los Angeles County air can be anyway - he had devised his own plan for what to do and now as he stood beside his pick-up truck, staring at the empty bay and realizing no one else from ‘A’ shift had arrived except Hank, he knew this was his opportunity. 

As he walked forward with his duffle bag in his hand, he saw his captain exiting the locker room. “Morning, Cap.”

“Morning,” was all Hank could muster at the moment. His head was pounding from lack of sleep and he needed coffee…and a glass of water since he hated dry swallowing powdery tablets.

Worried blue eyes followed the older man as he briskly walked, a bit unsteadily in Mike’s opinion, across the empty bay and into the kitchen. Mike leaned into the latrine door mumbling to himself. “Two minutes, Cap. Give me two minutes then you and I are going to have a serious conversation.”

E!

A/N: Thank you all for continuing to read this story/series. I appreciate the encouragement and corrections you share in your reviews, kudos and PM’s. Your words definitely make me a better writer. As we head toward the resolution of this particular story, I want to go ahead and present this warning for the next chapter. There will be some very strong language in the next segment but I believe (even though it may be uncharacteristic for our favorite firefighters), it is realistic for the situation and location. Once again, thank you all.


	15. Chapter 15

Warning: extreme language

Hank’s Haunting – 15

Hank poured himself a cup of coffee, setting it down on the counter to cool while he poured himself a glass of water. He dug around in his pocket retrieving the pills tossing them to the back of his throat and grimacing as he took a long drink of water to wash them down. 

“Headache already?”

Hank turned around, unaware that his engineer had seen him self-medicating. He glared at the younger man then turned his back to him. “Yea,” he grumbled drinking the remainder of the water then reaching for his coffee.

“Is that aspirin?” Mike had his suspicions and wondered if his commanding officer would be truthful with him.

“I’ll feel better in a few minutes,” he responded.

“You didn’t answer my question, Cap,” Mike retorted. He was prepared to return Hank’s barbs with a few of his own.

“I don’t have to either, Michael,” the older man said turning around and leaning against the counter, sipping his hot brew. “I’m in charge around here, not you.”

Mike’s jaws clenched, his mind alternating between mild insubordination and outright mutiny. He calmed himself with a few deep breaths then continued. “C’mon Cap, talk to me. What’s going on with you?”

Hank narrowed his eyes, peeking over the rim of his coffee cup; the curls of steam wafted upwards past his bushy eyebrows disappearing beyond his dark hair. “I don’t know what you mean,” he grumbled.

Mike propped a hand on his hip slamming his other hand on the white table top. “Damn it, Hank…this is me you’re talking too,” he spat out pointing a finger at his own chest. “So quit acting like nothing’s wrong because I know this thing is eating you up inside.” Mike’s knowing blue eyes were drilling holes into his captain’s guilt-ridden soul.

Hank’s discomfort with the conversation was obvious. His face reddened as he set his coffee cup down on the counter. He felt like some unknown beast was clawing its way from the pit of his stomach up his throat snorting and digging into his tongue before slamming full force into the back of his clenched teeth trying to break free. The tempo of his breathing increased as he gripped the air with his fists tightening and relaxing his hands, hands that were feeling an overwhelming desire to choke someone or something. A few tense moments past as he valiantly fought – and subsequently lost – the battle with the internal beast and with a shaking index finger pointed at his engineer, he opened his mouth releasing the untamed monster from its pearly cage. “Back off, Stoker. You don’t know shit. You understand? Now mind your own fucking business and leave me the hell alone!”

Mike groaned sarcastically at his captain’s remarks, tossing his head back in frustration. “Oh. My. God! For heaven’s sake why can’t…”

Hank growled in interruption, his hazel eyes flaming and red-rimmed. Part of him wanted to climb over the table and tackle the man he had considered his friend for several years but the more logical part won out and he managed to refrain from physical violence. “Do NOT invoke religion with me, Michael!”

“Then stop acting like some god damned deity!” Mike retorted, surprising himself with his brazenness. “I was there too remember?”

The older man narrowed his eyes once again, feeling his blood pressure rising with each second that ticked by. “Yea…I remember. But you didn’t do it,” he said faltering before regaining his composure. He turned both his anger and his boney index finger inward towards himself. “I did it! I’m to blame! And I’ve got to carry that with me to my grave.” 

“Cap…no one is blaming you. No one,” Mike reiterated, watching his superior disintegrate before his eyes like Pompeii in the wrath of Mount Vesuvius. The rumbling and the spewing of molten words were the warning signs. Mike knew he didn’t have much longer before this situation exploded and yet he felt helpless to stop it. Anger, frustration and a healthy dose of fear swirled together inside the big heart of the quiet engineer as he watched Hank pinching the bridge of his nose in an obvious effort to harness his emotions.

“You’re wrong, Stoker. She’s blaming…me,” his voice broke as he swallowed back the burning bile in the back of his throat. “You have no idea what it’s like for me. No. Fucking. Idea.”

“You aren’t the first one to go through this and you know damn well you won’t be the last. I wish it wouldn’t happen again but we both know that it will and yet…” Mike’s blue eyes widened as his captain stepped around the table in a move reminiscent of a posturing high school bully. 

“You’re about to make the biggest fucking mistake of your career, Stoker,” the captain threatened.

Mike backed up a step keeping his eyes moving between the trembling man’s hands and his gaunt facial features. Mike didn’t know if he was about to get punched or suspended and neither option appealed to him. He was about to speak, continuing to verbally walk the plank when the sound of the engine and squad returning forced both men to stop the escalating argument. Mike wiped the sweat from his upper lip using the back of his hand deciding to meet with Pete for an update before the ‘C’ shift engineer left. Stepping quickly through the door, he left his trembling captain leaning against the cabinet on his forearms with his head bowed down over the sink. He had been on the verge of vomiting during the height of his sudden heated exchange with his engineer and now he needed a moment to settle down. 

After a few moments, Hank straightened up blowing out a deep breath then clutched his abdomen, the sounds of slamming vehicle doors and grumbling tired men echoing in the bay. He raised his left shoulder upwards enough to dry the rivulets of sweat from the side of his face. He blew out another breath trying his best to slow down his racing heart and settle his tumultuous stomach. His anger felt like a suit of armor from the dark ages, protecting him from most threats and yet weighing him down to the point he could barely move…or was it something else weighing heavy on him? He cringed knowing the answer…and it wasn’t just anger he was feeling. Something else dark and sinister had taken root inside his soul on that night over a month ago. Now, it was destroying him from the inside out. He looked back at the kitchen door, the one Mike had just exited through, and realized that Mike knew it too. How long before his perceptive and responsible engineer contacted Headquarters? How long before he no longer had a place in this station? Or even in the department for that matter? He squeezed his eyes shut as another wave of nausea washed over him and pushed back the morbid thoughts. He wouldn’t let Mike or anyone else take away what was rightfully his. With additional determination, he looked back down at the glass in the sink using all the internal control he could muster not to throw it at the still swinging door. Instead, he turned on the cold water faucet and filled it one more time just as the younger ‘C’ shift lineman walked in.

“Morning, Captain Stanley,” the energetic boot spoke as he headed for the coffee pot.

“Mornin’,” Hank responded in a low husky drawl.

The lineman poured a Styrofoam cup of coffee then turned around to leave. “Hope Chet’s on time today ‘cause this shift’s been a bitch. Safe shift, Cap.”

Hank merely dipped his head in acknowledgement, unable to form words with his dry mouth.

Beside the engine, Mike and Pete were going over the last twenty-four hours when suddenly Pete noticed the redness on Mike’s sweat-laden face. “Hey, you ok?”

Mike jerked his eyes over to the left, pretending to check out the tires while he thought of how to answer that question. “Yea…yea, just got off to a bad start earlier.” He looked back up with a slight smile. “Just earned myself latrine duty for this shift,” he said nodding his head in the direction of the kitchen.

Pete understood the silent message. He had noticed that the ‘A’ shift captain had been acting strangely for a while and assumed that Mike must have had a confrontation with the older man when he arrived. “Sorry, man. Uh, if you’ve got our girl here then I’m gonna head on out.”

“Sure…enjoy your time off,” Mike said catching a glimpse of Captain Stanley heading down the side of the brick wall of the bay toward the captain’s office. The flash of a golden metallic vehicle turning into the driveway caught his eye and he diverted his attention to the back lot. Roy had just arrived and Mike walked out to meet him.

E!

Roy allowed the cool wind to whip through his auburn hair as he drove down 223rd street. He hoped that it would somehow make the past couple of days disappear into the smoggy L.A. County morning. Today was going to be difficult. Normally, his home was a refuge from his work and occasionally the opposite was true, particularly when his mother-in-law visited. But today, he didn’t really want to be in either place. He didn’t want to face his captain after the bitterness he seemed to be harboring over their last confrontation. At home, Joann wasn’t even speaking to him after he had forgotten their anniversary. The worst part was that the Stanley’s upheaval had been a major contributing factor in his home situation. He saw the station coming into view and flipped on his left blinker. He quickly wheeled down the driveway, his Porsche easily making the left turn into the back parking lot. 

He stared momentarily at his duffle bag in the passenger’s seat then blew out his breath filling his cheeks. “Well,” he said to himself reaching over for the black bag. “Here goes nothing.”

“Morning, Roy.”

Roy pulled his long frame out of the small vehicle carrying the bag in his hand and searching for the man offering the friendly greeting.

“Yea…gonna be one helluva shift, Mike,” he said sarcastically.

Mike was stunned at the edginess in the paramedic’s voice but decided not to pursue it. He needed to warn Roy of their captain’s sour mood. “I just had a run in with Cap. He’s in a bad way this morning. We’ve got to do something, man. He won’t make it through this shift.”

“Think he’ll let us…well, Johnny,” he corrected, remembering that it was his partner who had been asked to change Rebecca Stanley’s bandages. “Check him out? Maybe he shouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t know. I mean, no he shouldn’t be here but…he doesn’t need to be at home now either, ya know?” Mike’s concern for Mrs. Stanley was obvious. “I think that what he needs…,” he hesitated making sure no one else was around to overhear him, especially not the man about whom they were speaking. “None of us are qualified to provide for him.”

Roy leaned a hip against his car door just as Marco and Johnny drove up. “I agree with you there, Mike. But how do we make that happen?”

“Morning, fellas,” Johnny spoke, his mood a little brighter than the others. “Haha, looks like Chet gets latrines this shift,” he snickered to the others.

“You really enjoy his pain don’t you, John?” Marco said removing his sunglasses from his tanned face.

“Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy, Lopez.” Johnny’s chipper mood quickly soured as he took in the faces of the others. “A’right, a’right…what’d I miss?”

“Me getting latrine duty for trying to talk to Cap,” Mike said exasperatedly. 

“Oooh,” Johnny cringed narrowing his eyes. “How’d that go?”

Mike gave Johnny a sarcastic disbelieving look that froze the younger man in his tracks. “How do you think? I thought he was gonna punch my lights out, John. He’s pissed as hell!”  
Johnny released a low whistle just as Chet drove up. The four men waited for him to get out of his van and join them before Mike began his story of his earlier altercation with their captain.

Chet listened to Mike’s story, shaking his head from side to side. “Damn,” Chet cursed underneath his breath. “Well, Mikey-babe…thanks for bailing me out of latrine duty but…”

The four other men glared at Chet after his rude comment. 

Chet saw the intent looks on their faces and held up both hands in surrender. “Whoa, whoa…I didn’t mean it like that. Listen fellas, I’m just as upset as the rest of ya. I just…I just don’t know what to do about it,” he said, his voice fading as he dropped his face toward the cement.

“If he won’t listen to us and if he isn’t fit for duty then…then we got no choice do we?”

Mike looked at Johnny and saw the concern in the younger man’s deep brown eyes. “I don’t think I’m ready to do that to him yet, John.”

“None of us are, Mike. He’s more than our captain. He’s our friend, our mentor and…”

“Our brother…and he’s in trouble guys,” Chet said interrupting Johnny. “I’m here today because you…,” he waved a hand in the direction of the other men standing in a semicircle. “Well, you brought me back and…we gotta do the same for Cap, don’tcha think?”

“How, Kelly?” Marco asked, his voice obviously frustrated with the situation.

“I don’t know but…we’ll just have to find the right time and…and then…just do…something.” Chet mumbled shifting his duffle bag to his other hand.

“Your brilliance is astoundin’, Chet.”

“Well do you have a better idea, Gage?”

Mike released his crossed arms and looked at the others, his blue eyes sparkling. “We can’t really formulate a plan until we know exactly what we’re dealing with…and I have an idea that just might work.”

A shout from the apparatus bay intruded on Mike’s hushed explanation. “Hey, if ‘A’ shift doesn’t mind actually working today, ‘C’ would like to go home.”

“Knock it off, Dwyer…we’re comin’ we’re comin’,” Johnny spoke for the group.

“Later fellas,” Mike said making eye contact with each man in the cohesive group. “I’ll explain it all when I get a chance…maybe in the locker room when ‘C’ clears out.” Mike stated as the men all meandered across the back lot and towards the locker room. None of them were looking forward to the next twenty-four hours. 

None were dreading it as deeply as the oldest man on the shift who sat at the captain’s desk reviewing the Thank You note the station had received a month ago from the family of the paramedic from Station 36’s who had died in the line of duty. Kyle Carrigan’s family had penned the words intending them to be a healing balm for both the writer and the recipients. But the fireman who needed the most healing was using it as hemlock instead.

E!

“Ok, the log is up to date so if you’re ready to assume command then I’m outta here.”

Hank looked up at Captain Hookraider who stood tiredly in the doorway of the captain’s office. Hank shuffled a couple of papers to cover up the note he had been reading. “Yes, I’ve got it. Enjoy your off days.”

“Safe shift, Hank,” the ‘C’ shift captain said turning to leave.

“Thanks,” Hank mumbled to himself, picking up a pen and making a few notes for roll call.

E!

“A’right, we’re ready so, see ya, Charlie.” Johnny watched as the last man from ‘C’ shift walked to his car. As soon as he began backing out of his parking space, the dark haired paramedic rushed back into the locker room joining the remainder of his crewmates. 

“Now, what is it you think’s goin’ on, Mike?” Johnny asked, knowing the others were just as anxious as he was to get to the bottom of the issue that had been dividing up more than just the Hank Stanley family.

Mike inhaled deeply before beginning. “I saw him taking some pills this morning and when I asked about them he evaded my question, got really defensive and started swearing at me?”

Marco’s dark eyes widened in disbelief. “Cap cursed at you?”

“Yea and…well, I kinda returned the favor, you know?

“Hate I missed it,” Chet mused. “Never seen him get mad at you, Stoker.”

Mike looked worriedly at the door of the latrine knowing roll call was coming up soon. “Ok, look…he didn’t take the pills out of a bottle; they were in his pocket. So, I’m thinking they’re in his locker. Now, obviously I can’t stall him because he’s upset with me but Chet,” he turned toward the curly haired lineman. “You’ve got your medical release right?”

“Yea.”

“Then if you can go in there and talk to him about it then I can dig through his locker and look for the bottle. If for some reason I don’t get latrines then it’s got to be whichever one of us does get the assignment. Agreed?”

Roy looked at his hands then shoved them into his pockets. “Maybe it was just a couple of aspirin?”

“It wasn’t, Roy. I asked…and he changed the subject.” Mike looked around at the stunned crew. “Am I the only one who’s noticed he never sleeps here anymore? He’s on edge and angry all the time and…”

“Mike, you’re asking us to go along with you on violating his privacy. I just don’t know, man,” Marco offered leaning against a sink and crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you know what he’d do to us if we get caught?”

“Don’t you know what’s going to happen to him if we do nothing?” Chet looked at his best friend and partner. “Sometimes it’s necessary to invade a person’s privacy and I for one think this is one of those times.” He looked at his engineer. “I’m in, Mike.”

Roy and Johnny exchanged pained glances. Neither one liked the idea but the idea of doing nothing was even less appealing. 

“Yea…a’right, a’right. I’m in too.” Johnny watched as his partner contemplated his involvement.

“Ok,” Roy said softly.

“Ok, let’s do it together then,” Marco said with a loud exhalation; he obviously still had reservations. 

“But wait a minute,” Chet began, the wheels beginning to turn inside his brain. “What if I get latrines? Then what?”

“Then I go in and ask him about his wife? I’ve been over there twice since she got hurt so that shouldn’t raise his suspicions,” Johnny interjected.

“Roll call in two!” 

The group of men turned as one toward the sound of their captain’s raised voice. “Alright, here’s the plan fellas…,” Mike began.

E!

Just as anticipated, Mike was assigned latrines without explanation from their superior. It didn’t surprise anyone but it did leave Chet a bit relieved that he wouldn’t be the one looking through Captain Stanley’s private things. 

“Alright men, let’s have a safe shift. Dismissed.”

Mike scurried to the latrines as he heard Chet speak up.

“Cap, I’ve got my medical release form but, uh…can I speak to you privately, please?”

“Sure,” Hank said with a grimace. “C’mon.”

Chet followed the older man to the captain’s office while Johnny stepped to the passenger’s side of the squad to begin morning checks. He stayed where he could maintain eye contact with the closed door while Marco took his post on the opposite side of the engine. He had been assigned the kitchen and day room but at the moment he was planted in a strategic position to hear Johnny giving him the previously agreed upon signal. Roy was beginning his duty in the dorms but was paying close attention to any noises in the bay which would let him know to signal Mike through the doorway that connected the dorm with the locker room. 

Mike immediately went to Hank’s locker hesitating only a moment before opening it up and beginning his search. “Sorry, Cap…gotta do it.”

Chet took a seat in the chair beside Hank’s desk. “Cap, I just…um, I just wanted to say again how sorry I am about what happened and that I promise I’ll do everything I can to make it up to you.” He stared at his fingernails trying to think of someway to stall a little longer for Mike’s sake but he was running out of things to say. “Ah, so what did I miss?”

“Nothing,” Hank said curtly. “Now, get your butt out there and start cleaning up the bay,” Hank ordered returning his attention to his paper work.

“Yessir.” Chet slowly opened the door seeing Johnny peeking over the top of the squad.

“Hey Marco, would ya tell Roy we need to make a supply run to Rampart as soon as he can break free?” He called out to the waiting Marco.

“Sure thing,” Marco said pushing open the dorm door. “Hey Roy…Johnny’s going in so tell Mike to make it quick.”

Roy nodded his understanding then pushed open the locker room door to warn his engineer. But what he saw was a wide-eyed Mike rushing towards him with a couple of bottles in his hand. “What did you find?”

“These,” he said shoving the two bottles into Roy’s awaiting hands. 

Roy rolled them in his hand so he could read the labels then swallowed the lump in his throat. “Jeezus, Mike. This could explain a lot of things.”

E!


	16. chapter 16

Hank’s Haunting – 16

Joanne shooed the kids out the door to the bus stop before cleaning up the kitchen. Roy had left without saying goodbye but then again, they hadn’t said much at all to each other during his days off so why should this morning be any different? She poured herself a cup of coffee then began running hot water into the sink. When she turned to the stove to retrieve the dirty pans and utensils, she was astounded to see that it was spotless.

All the dishes were washed and stacked neatly in the dish drain to dry and the stove had been wiped down. Immediately, her heart was nudged by his tender act of domestication while she had been busy helping Jennifer with her hair. She turned off the water and pulled the drain plug, listening to the gurgling sound the draining water made as it swirled around the stainless steel basin. She thought back to the previous couple of days Roy had spent at home; the silence between them was unnerving. Then she imagined him scrubbing the dishes after he and the kids had eaten breakfast and something inside her softening heart began to once again harden. Was he only doing this now because she had spent the last two days denying him what he really wanted? Was he trying to somehow rectify his negligence by suddenly deciding to help her out around the house or was he merely trying to earn his pay in the form of a little bedroom action after his shift ended? 

“Men are so easy to figure out!” She huffed to herself. “They only want one thing and the whole world revolves around them getting it too.” 

She took a deep cleansing breath then rinsed the suds out of the sink and hurried upstairs. She planned to visit Rebecca Stanley later this morning to see if there was anything she could do for her during her recovery. She felt like the older woman might need a friend and Joanne herself knew that helping someone else during their time of need would also make her situation a little more bearable.

E!

“Hurry and put them back. I don’t know how long Johnny can keep him occupied.” Roy shoved the two bottles back into the waiting hands of Mike and both men parted ways. 

As soon as Mike had returned them to the inside pocket of Hank's duffle bag and repositioned it in the locker, he picked up the broom and opened the door between the dorm and locker room. He wanted to look busy if Captain Stanley should happen to walk in. Once he ascertained that their captain was nowhere around, he managed to whistle for Roy’s attention. Soon they were joined by both linemen.

“So what’d ya find?”

Mike looked at a nervous Chester B. Kelly and grimaced slightly. “Nothing good,” he said nodding to Roy for a better explanation.

Three sets of eyes bore down on Roy and the paramedic could feel the heat rising up around his collar warming his ears. “Fellas…now don’t rush to conclusions but….well, he’s taking caffeine pills and a prescription medication for insomnia.”

“Why would a doctor prescribe both? Seems like they’d just mess each other up?” Chet looked back and forth between Roy and Mike.

“A doctor wouldn’t. Brackett gave him the prescription but the caffeine pills are over the counter; you can pick them up at any truck stop,” Roy confirmed. “I bet you a month’s pay that Doc has no idea he’s taking caffeine pills too.”

“And drinking pots of coffee,” Mike added, remembering what the older man was doing when they had exchanged a few heated words at the beginning of the shift.

“So the two drugs are working against each other right?”

“That’s right, Marco. If he’s taking them at the same time.” Roy crossed his arms over his chest looking at Mike for a response while his words sank in with the others.

“I can’t say for sure; I didn’t get a good look at the pills before he swallowed them but in case you haven't noticed, Cap doesn't sleep at all when he's on shift, at least not lately, so why would he be carrying around the one for insomnia unless he was mixing them for some reason?” Mike looked at the others noticing that Chet was running a hand through his curly hair and staring at some imaginary spot on the dorm room floor.

“Daaammmn,” Chet drew out in a long breath. “No wonder he’s so fu…”

The klaxons sounded interrupting the lineman’s colorful description of their superior and every man on ‘A’ shift rushed to his assigned vehicle as the voice of Sam Lanier echoed in the bay.

 

‘Station 51, unknown type rescue at the gas station at E. Carson Street and Wilmington Avenue. That’s the gas station at E. Carson Street and Wilmington Avenue. P.D. has been notified. Time out 0823.’

 

Johnny pulled open the passenger’s side door of the squad as Captain Stanley picked up the mic.

“Station 51 responding, KMG-365.” He rushed by the driver’s side of the squad slipping the paper through the open window as he made his way to the officer’s seat of the engine.   
Roy pulled on his helmet, tightening the strap then pulled out of the station making the right turn into yielding traffic with Mike steering the engine right behind him. When life and property were in harm’s way, the men of 51’s were all business. Each one wondering what type of rescue awaited them on scene; the rescue of their captain temporarily pushed aside. 

“Should be a couple more blocks on the left, Roy.” 

“I see it.” Roy turned into the gas station where a frantic young man was waving his arms over his head.

Mike eased the engine to a stop in a position that offered the most protection for the victim as well as the crew. Gawkers were always an issue to be dealt with when working an emergency scene and Mike was a master at using the engine as a protective barrier between the onlookers and the victim.

“Station 51, at scene,” Hank announced into the engine’s microphone as he and the rest of the crew disembarked the vehicles. 

’10-4, 51’

Hank saw the terror in the young attendant’s eyes and went straight to him while Johnny and Roy made their way to the dented brown Pinto at the far end of the parking lot. 

“What’s the problem?” Captain Stanley inquired.

The young man ran both hands frantically through his hair as he stumbled through his words. “I-I don’t know. I-I can’t get him to…to wake…up and,” his eyes were watching the two medics while Captain Stanley tried to calm him down. 

“Listen, take a deep breath and settle down. You’re going to hyperventilate if you keep breathing fast like this,” Hank instructed, placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder for a moment. “That’s better. What’s your name?”

“Rob,” he said twisting his thin upper torso back to stare at the brown car.

“Look at me, Rob. I need some information from you ok?” Hank requested trying his best to divert the distressed man’s attention back on himself. “What happened?”  
Hank could hear his crew working feverishly in the background.

“Sir? Sir, can you hear me?” Johnny shouted as he pounded on the driver’s side window. The man inside was slumped over wedged between the door and the steering wheel; something dark and rust colored staining the back of his shirt collar. Johnny pulled hard on the door but it wouldn’t budge.

“This one’s locked too, John,” Marco responded.

“Gonna need a prybar, Chet!” Roy called out as he pulled out the oxygen tank and biophone. “Mike can you get the drug box?”

Hank kept listening to Rob as the young man continued pushing his shaggy blonde hair back off his forehead feeling helpless. “He was – here when I- I got here and -I just-I just thought he was…uh, just reaching for…um, somethin’ on the floor board and…uh, I, um,…I, didn’t check and…uh, now, is he…is he, um,” he stuttered continuing to turn and look at the scene behind him.

Hank’s frayed nerves could take no more and without realizing it, he grabbed a handful of the young man’s shirt walking him backwards a few steps until his back was against the engine. “Sit!”

Mike had just set the drug box down beside the spot where Roy was kneeling when he heard his captain’s husky baritone voice ordering a civilian around the way he would order one of his men. His blue eyes shot up in the direction of the two men just in time to see the young man pushed into a seated position on the tailboard of the engine. “What the…?”

“Mike?” Roy questioned worriedly, his eyes seeing the same thing, just as a loud metallic popping noise was heard. Roy turned to confirm that the lock on the Pinto's door had been breached and saw Johnny’s slim frame slipping into the passenger’s seat. He looked back over at Mike who was headed toward the engine just as two police officer’s arrived on scene and headed towards the back of the engine as well.

“Damn it,” he heard his partner spit out and looked up to see Johnny’s grim face as he exited the vehicle. The two shared a knowing look of defeat and Roy began unscrewing the antenna and closing up the biophone. There was nothing they or the staff at Rampart could do now. Marco removed a yellow blanket from the side compartment of the squad and he and Chet began unfolding it to cover the body.

“What was it?” Roy asked thinking he knew the answer from the stern look on his partner’s face.

“Guy decided to eat a bullet…small caliber but it did the job.”

Roy shook his head. “Better let the police know.”

Johnny rubbed a finger beneath his nose then turned his lanky body towards the engine. With his long legs, it only took him a few strides to close the distance then Mike gave him an odd look that let him know they needed to talk later. Johnny filed that tidbit of information away for the time being and turned to the officers. “Uh, fellas it looks like a suicide. Small caliber weapon in the floorboard. Looks like he held it in his mouth. Exit wound on the back of his neck. Johnny tried to speak in a tone respectful of the decedent. 

“He WHAT?” Rob screamed, standing up and pushing his way toward the paramedic. He had already confirmed to the officers that he had never seen the victim before and just assumed he was an early customer.

“SIT. DOWN,” ordered Captain Stanley, grabbing the young man by the back of his collar and pulling him backwards slightly. 

“Cap,” Mike placed a concerned hand on Hank’s shoulder. His captain had always been a very caring man but his demeanor was uncharacteristic at the moment.

Rob backed up in the direction the captain was pulling him but he stumbled slightly just before his eyes rolled back and his knees buckled. Hank adjusted his grip on the limp young man reaching around his chest with his free arm to hold him up until Mike and Roy could help ease him to the ground. 

Johnny turned around at the sound of shuffling feet and saw that the gas station attendant had collapsed. “I’ll get the equipment,” he called out to the others. 

Mike and Roy positioned Rob so that his legs could be elevated on the tailboard of the engine as Johnny set their equipment down and the two medics went to work. 

“He was breathing too fast. I tried to get him to take a seat and slow it down but I think he must’ve heard that the guy was dead,” Hank announced, seemingly unfazed by his earlier raised voice. 

“BP’s low, 88/50 and pulse is 58. Respirations are 14.” Roy removed the stethoscope from around his neck. “I think it’s just a vasovagal response.”

Johnny opened the drug box removing an ampoule of smelling salts. He waved it beneath the nose of the syncopal young man who, after a few moments, crinkled his nose and began to turn away from the offending substance. “Easy…take it easy. You’re gonna be a’right. Just relax for me,” Johnny spoke reassuringly pressing lightly on Rob’s chest to encourage him to remain lying down.

“Rampart this is squad 51. How do you read?” Roy spoke into the biophone.

Behind them, Mike and Hank were talking to the officers giving them the information they had from the time they had been called out until the officers arrived on scene. One officer returned to the patrol car to request the coroner while the other made his way to the gas station building. It was obvious that the business would be closed today so he made sure to secure the building. 

Mike looked at Hank noticing his paleness and the lines that seemed to be forming a road map across his rugged features. He seemed to have aged twenty years in as many days. “Cap…how’s the headache?”

Hank gave his engineer a look that could have stopped a train in its tracks. He faced the younger man and stepped up to him using his taller stature and nearness to make Mike feel inferior. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Roy interrupted them.

“Cap, we’re gonna need an ambulance.”

Hank continued to glare at his second in command, slowly stepping to the side and opening the door of the engine. He stepped up on the running board and removed the microphone without losing eye contact. “LA, engine 51, dispatch an ambulance to our location.”

’10-4, 51’

Marco had been watching from his location near the body and he could tell that something was very wrong between his captain and his engineer. Judging by Mike’s facial expressions and Hank’s posture, there was about to be a showdown. Marco knew this was not the place for it, not in full view of the public. “Hey Cap?”

Hank’s hazel eyes narrowed in silent threat as he called out over his shoulder. “Yea?”

“Chet and I need you over here.”

Mike watched as Hank took a pensive step backwards then finally broke their eye contact and jogged over to the Pinto. Relief washed over him and he tried to swallow back the lump that had lodged itself in his throat. Wiping a hand across his forehead, he dared a glance down at Roy who was packing up the biophone, the sound of the Mayfair ambulance growing louder as it got closer to the scene. 

Roy stood up, orange biophone in his hand and positioned himself close enough to Mike that they could hear each other’s whispers. “What the hell was that all about?”

Mike merely shook his head as he stared at Marco and Hank talking by the car while Chet tugged at the blanket a little more trying to maximize coverage. “This ends today, Roy.” He turned his blue eyes on the paramedic, chin strap blowing in the breeze beneath his handsome face. “I don’t know how, when or what we can do…but this shit ends before ‘B’ shift comes on…or he’s gonna hurt somebody.”

E!

Across town, Joanne pulled up at a traffic light. She looked in her rearview mirror once more making sure her lipstick was fresh. When she returned her gaze to the road, she saw the sign for ‘Bloomers’ and decided that a fresh bouquet of flowers might be just the thing to brighten the day for Rebecca. She parked her car and walked in, deeply inhaling the smells of lilac, roses, vanilla and a hint of eucalyptus. She loved fresh flowers and walking around the small flower shop brought a sense of peace to her unsettled soul.

“May I help you?”

Joanne followed the sound of the voice to the back corner of the shop where a very haggard looking middle-aged woman stood arranging roses and greenery in a small white vase.   
Her salt and pepper hair was in what had once been a tight bun but was now beginning to fall around the nape of her neck. Her bloodshot eyes were staring at Joanne from behind oversized glasses perched precariously on the tip of her nose.

“Oh, um, yes…I have a friend who was injured in an accident a couple of days ago and I was wanting to cheer her up with a fresh spring bouquet, please?”

The florist removed a pen from behind her ear and pulled out a small pad of order forms from beneath her work counter. “Which hospital?”

“Oh, no. She’s at home,” Joanne answered with a smile as she continued to look around at the beautiful arrangements.

“I’m sorry, ma’am but,” the older woman began with a slight nod of her head. “But I’m afraid I won’t be able to make any residential deliveries for a few days. One of my employees decided to elope to Vegas with her boyfriend two days ago and that just leaves one other person in this shop besides me and she’s in high school so she makes all my hospital deliveries after school every afternoon and tries to keep the place tidied up but…,” she heaved a heavy sigh then inhaled a fresh breath before continuing. “Until I can find some good help, I just can’t make any deliveries. I can have it ready in about an hour if you can pick it up and deliver it yourself.”

Joanne had fully intended to take the flowers with her to the Stanley home as a kind of ice breaker; something for the two of them to talk about until she could find a way to bring up the real topic. “That will be fine. I had planned on taking it with me anyway.”

“That’s great…and such a relief for me,” the older woman replied. 

“Oh it’s no problem. I love the way this place looks and smells. I’ll just look around while you get it ready. No rush,” Joanne offered turning to continue looking at the various items for sale in the quaint little shop. 

As the florist began cutting the stems and arranging the daisies, roses, carnations and lilies, she kept a close eye on her customer. The young woman was closer to thirty than twenty and had a very neat appearance with a pleasant smile. She also seemed to have a genuine interest in flowers.

An hour later, Joanne walked out of ‘Bloomers’ with a beautiful vase of fresh flowers and a newfound spring in her step. She couldn’t wait to share her news with Rebecca.

E!

Hal climbed into the back of the ambulance with a conscious but clearly upset gas station attendant. 

“This is all just a precaution, Rob. Doc wants to make sure you’re alright.” Johnny said standing at the back door of the ambulance offering a tense smile to his patient. As soon as Hal took a seat on the bench beside Rob who was strapped into the gurney, Johnny closed the doors and gave the customary two slaps to let the driver know they were secured and ready to leave. He then returned to the squad realizing that their equipment had already been stowed and the engine was leaving the scene.

“Can’t believe Morton didn’t order an IV,” Roy said.

“Me either. I guess Brackett got to him,” Johnny smirked. 

“At least we don’t have to ride in with him,” he continued as he pulled out behind the engine.

Johnny propped his elbow on the window ledge then shifted slightly so he could see his partner a little better. “Yea.” After a brief pause, he spoke one word that communicated his question quite well. “So?”

Roy knew exactly what Johnny meant. They had been focused on their run since the klaxons first sounded and this was their first chance to really talk about Captain Stanley. 

“Mike found two bottles of pills in his locker. One was over the counter caffeine pills and the other was a prescription Dr. Brackett had written for temazepam,” he said flatly, keeping his eyes on the road. He had worked with Johnny long enough to know exactly what the younger man was about to do. If Roy was right, and he knew he was, then Johnny was sitting there with a perplexed look on his face. His mouth would be slightly open and his eyebrows would be alternating between arching and drawing together into a ‘V’ pattern as he tried to make the pieces of the puzzle fit together. Then in about three seconds he would go into a rant. Three. Two. One.

“Wha…why would he do that? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. I mean, for crying out loud, Roy. Who the hell mixes those two together? Why would…”

“Slow down, Junior,” Roy cut in. “All I said was that’s what he found. We don’t know for sure that he’s taking them together.”

Johnny looked out his window at the scenery passing by. He only had another couple of minutes before they would be back at the station and he wanted to talk about this a little more. “Roy, you and I have both known people on temazepam and it’s great for helping folks get to sleep. But if he’s taking both at the same time and…,” Johnny knew what Roy was thinking. “I’m not saying he is but IF he is then maybe…maybe he isn’t taking it to help him sleep.”

Roy stared at the yellow dotted lines passing along on 223rd street as he allowed his partner’s words to sink in. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? “Johnny,” he began pulling to a stop outside the station and beginning to back into the bay beside the engine. “I never even gave that a thought but…yea, you could be right.” He shifted into park and looked over at his partner.

Johnny looked back with a slightly tired expression. He could never hide his emotions because his face was just too expressive. It was part of the reason he was a very bad poker player but no one wanted to tell him that since it helped relieve them of the task of dish washing more often than not. He lifted his chocolate eyes to look at Roy. “If I am right…then this is bad, really bad.”

“Yea,” Roy said reaching for the door handle. “Yea.”

E!

Joanne rang the doorbell at the Stanley home. She could hear the noise from the television set but didn’t hear any movement inside the house. After a few minutes, she rang the bell again, never considering that Rebecca might be asleep. She looked at her watch and noted that it was nearly eleven o’clock. Just as she was about to ring the bell again, she saw the door crack open slightly.

“Who is it?” A weak but familiar voice called out.

“Rebecca, it’s Joanne. I wanted to stop by and check on you,” she said placing her face nearer to the door, the floral arrangement hidden by her side.

“Oh, Joanne, um…that’s very nice of you…uh, just a minute.”

Joanne could hear the distinctive sound of a safety chain being unlatched and the door opened up wider. She was stunned at the sight of her friend. Her hands were bandaged as was her forehead but it was the bruising along her cheekbone and upper lip that caused Joanne to nearly gasp out loud; her stomach summersaulted.

“I’m a mess, Joanne. I’m, uh, I’m sorry. It’s not as bad as it, um, as it looks.” The older woman stammered as she stepped aside and gestured for Joanne to come in. “Please, come in.”

“Oh, these are for you,” Joanne said, proudly holding out the bouquet. 

Rebecca felt a tingling in the back of her throat and her eyes began to tear up. “Oh, Joanne, these are…oh they’re beautiful.”

“Nothing like fresh flowers to cheer you up and you look like you could use some cheering, my dear,” she said pulling her friend into a very light sideways hug. She hesitated for a moment then realized that Rebecca couldn’t hold the vase in her bandaged hands. “Oh, um…where shall I put them?”

“Um, maybe on the coffee table. That way I can look at them all the time,” she suggested.

“Sounds like a perfect place to me,” she said following Rebecca into the living room.

“I’m afraid I’m a terrible hostess, Joanne,” she said taking a seat on the couch and covering her legs with a blanket. “If you’d like something to eat or drink, we have plenty but I’m afraid you’ll have to fix it yourself. I, uh…I can’t do much these days,” she said, a shadow darkening her normally bright eyes.

“Well, that’s why I came over. I wanted to see what I could do for you and it looks like you need something to eat.” Joanne stood up, knowing her way around the Stanley kitchen. “Now, do you want a complete meal or soup and a sandwich or…”

“A sandwich would be great…if it’s not too much bother?” Rebecca asked rather timidly.

“Not at all,” Joanne replied opening the refrigerator and pulling out the sandwich meat and cheese. “Why don’t you take a seat at the table and we can talk while I make your lunch?”  
Rebecca hesitated but finally acquiesced. She gingerly pulled a chair out from the table and took a seat. She wanted so badly to actually talk to someone about what was happening but she didn’t know if Joanne was the right person and more than that…she didn’t know how. She sat watching Joanne flit around in her kitchen with more energy than she could imagine. She wished she felt good enough to move like that but it had been so long since she had rested well that she was beginning to feel like an elderly woman instead of a woman in her late thirties. While she sat musing, she could hear Joanne’s voice talking but she really had no idea what the woman was saying.

“…and I start tomorrow. She agreed for me to work only when the kids are in school so I don’t have to worry about a sitter and the extra money will be so nice.” When Joanne got no response from her friend, she looked up and saw Rebecca staring into the air between the table and floor. She took in the sight of Rebecca Stanley and her heart ached for her friend. Her hair hadn’t been washed since the accident and she had on no make-up. Her clothing looked baggy which Joanne assumed was to make taking care of her toileting needs easier. Joanne grimaced knowing that the situation was worse than she had thought. She pulled a paper towel off the roll and folded it beneath the sandwich plate she held in one hand then picked up the iced tea she had poured with the other. She walked over to the table setting both of them down in front of Rebecca. The abruptness of her movements startled Rebecca and the older woman nearly jumped out of her chair.

“Uh, I’m…I’m sorry Joanne. Did you say something?” 

“I asked if you had any medicines you needed to take with your food,” Joanne lied but at the moment, her excitement over her new job was pushed to the farthest recesses of her mind.

“Um, yes…my antibiotic is by the sink. I have to take it with food or I get sick.” Rebecca slowly chewed a bite of her sandwich as Joanne retrieved her medication and opened the lid for her. She read the label and shook out one large capsule then returned the cap on the bottle and replaced it by the sink. She watched Rebecca struggle to swallow the large pill and then waited for her to finish more of her sandwich while they made small talk. She knew the woman needed her strength to heal and it was obvious she couldn’t manage meal preparation herself. The thought of Hank being at the station instead of here with his injured wife troubled her deeply. In her mind, she pictured him sitting around the lunch table enjoying a home cooked meal with the guys while his wife was relegated to snacking until their teenage daughters got home from school. She thought about keeping her mouth shut about his absence but decided that it was a good segue into the conversation.

“Hank must be out of vacation days or else I’m sure he would’ve stayed at home with you,” she commented knowing that as a captain, he got more vacation time than Roy did so he certainly shouldn’t be out of paid time off.

“N, no…no, he still has some time he can take off but it’s…it’s better like this…he, he needs to work.” She wanted to elaborate but she was so afraid of what Joanne might think or do. Truthfully, part of her was a bit embarrassed about her circumstance as well. “I can rest while he’s at the station.”

Joanne watched as Rebecca’s countenance fell slightly. Her resolve was crumbling and Joanne knew it. As much as she hated to do it to her friend, she continued to push forward. “So are you saying you can’t rest when he’s here?” Joanne gave her a sly grin with a knowing wink. Obviously, love-making wasn’t happening for them with her injuries but she thought it might at least keep her talking.

Rebecca blushed at the thought. “Oh, goodness no…it isn’t that… it’s just that…um,” she was about to become trapped by her own words. “Ah, it’s just quieter when he isn’t here.”

Joanne knitted her eyebrows together and reached out grasping her friend’s forearm in her own. She could feel Rebecca trembling slightly and saw that she was deliberately avoiding eye contact. “Rebecca? Please look at me,” she asked seeing the moisture pooling along Rebecca’s lower eyelids. “What happened to you? The truth,” she firmly requested.

Rebecca looked up; the tears spilling onto her cheeks. She could only shake her head negatively as she sniffled, trying to dry her eyes with the bandages from her hands. This was what she had both yearned for and feared the most. Someone outside of the family finding out what they’d been dealing with for the past month. “Please, Jo,” she said, her voice nothing more than a strained whisper. “Please don’t do this...please?”

Hearing the pain and the pleading in Rebecca’s voice broke the heart of Joanne DeSoto. The feud between herself and Roy was absolutely nothing compared to what was happening in this household. The once confident and stalwart Rebecca Stanley now sat shivering at her own kitchen table appearing more like a frightened little girl than a grown woman. 

Rebecca sat back wiping her eyes and nose with the paper towel Joanne had brought with her sandwich. Her neck was splotching as gulped for air continuing to struggle for control of her emotions. She tried her best to regain her composure but when she felt Joanne’s arms envelop her, holding her tight and offering her a sanctuary from the desolate wilderness in which she had been lost, she collapsed into the sisterly embrace. 

“Sshhhh, it’s gonna be alright,” Joanne soothed, tenderly rubbing soothing circles along the older woman’s back. She continued to hold her friend as she released the pent up pain and anguish she’d been carrying for far too long. “Rebecca,” she continued, allowing her friend to lean on her for support. “I know about the fire and what happened that morning but,” she hesitated brushing her fingers through the hair on the back of Rebecca’s head as she swallowed back the bile she could feel rising in the back of her throat. In her gut, she knew what she had to ask and yet she dreaded having her suspicions confirmed. “But what happened to your cheek and your lip?” 

Joanne pulled back slightly so she could look at Rebecca’s eyes. The haunting pain she saw staring back at her nearly stole her own breath. She waited as Rebecca’s chin and bottom lip began to quiver and she knew the moment the damn inside the older woman ruptured. She fell forward, her sore forehead resting against Joanne’s shoulder as if her neck had been supporting the weight of the world.

“Oh god, Joanne,” she wept bitterly. “He, …he's...a really...good man, I swear…he, he loves me… really he does…he, something’s wrong…with him, he…needs help, Hank needs…he-lp,” she gasped out nearly choking on her sobs. “He…he didn’t mean…to…to hurt me.”

E!


	17. Chapter 17

Hank’s Haunting – 17

Joanne continued to soothe her hurting friend who now leaned against her shoulder, Rebecca’s own strength totally depleted by the hell she had endured recently as well as the emotional release she had just experienced. Joanne’s words couldn’t seem to climb around the lump lodged in her throat and so the two women sat holding each other; the older sobbing loudly while the younger grieved silently. After several emotionally cleansing minutes, Rebecca sat back once again reaching for the soggy paper towel to continue drying her face. 

“Rebecca,” Joanne finally gasped out, her green eyes searching the pain stricken face of her friend. “I can’t believe this. I’m so sorry. What’s going on with him to make him hurt you like this? And what about the girls?”

Rebecca began to frantically shake her head negatively trying to interrupt the direction Joanne’s comments were going in. “No, no he’s never hurt our girls and,” she sniffled, wiping at her eyes again. “And Joanne, he wasn’t angry at me when he…he...” She couldn’t say it.

“He hit you. You can say it, Rebecca because it isn’t your fault.” Joanne could feel the rage beginning to boil deep within her.

“That’s just it…it isn’t his fault either.”

“What? Rebecca, I know he’s your husband and I know you love him but you can’t defend what he’s done.” Joanne was fighting to tamp down her anger at the whole situation.

“He didn’t know it happened, Jo. I swear…he was…he was looking through me...he wasn’t awake…but he wasn’t asleep either.” Rebecca stared at the stunned expression on Joanne’s face as understanding began to bloom.

“Oh my god, Rebecca.”

"He won't go see a doctor and…," she hesitated and looked away from Joanne as she continued. "He won't see a...a marriage counselor either."

"Well then what does he suggest you do? My god, Rebecca, you can't keep going like this!" Joanne swallowed hard realizing just how loud her voice had gotten in her frustrated state.

"Neither can he," the distressed woman whimpered. "Neither of us can."

Joanne ran her hands up and down the upper arms of her friend not sure how to comfort her. "We have an extra bedroom so why don't...,"

"No...no, Joanne, I can't. No way can I leave my family, my girls and," Rebecca interrupted, unaware that the offer wasn't actually for Rebecca.

"I know. I know and you shouldn't have to leave. What I was going to say is that Hank can stay there, with us...with Roy in the house."

E!

Hank updated the log book while the squad was sent on the first of a series of minor medical runs. The engine only got called out once more before lunch but it was for an alarm someone had accidently set off in a hotel hallway. The three remaining members of the engine crew continued their chores, each one contemplating ways to address what was happening with their captain without causing him difficulties with the department brass. 

By the time Chet had set the table for a lunch of soup and sandwiches, they were still no closer to a solution than when they had first started. Mike, Marco and Chet ate in silence while Hank remained in his office with the door closed. They could tell by the lights on the telephone in the dayroom that he wasn’t talking on the phone but they truly had no idea what he was doing or why he was being so secretive about it. The sound of slamming doors echoed in the bay and three sets of eyes were trained on the doorway through which two hungry paramedics were about to enter.

“I’m starvin’. Whatcha got for us, Kelly?”

Chet looked up with almost no expression on his face. “Vegetable soup and sandwiches.”

“Mmm hmm,” Johnny inhaled appreciatively then picked up the soup ladle filling two bowls. He set one down for himself and one for his partner who was slapping ham and cheese on a couple of sandwiches for the two of them.

“They’re doin’ it again, Mike.” Chet stared at his engineer.

All eyes turned toward the curly haired lineman.

“Doin’ what?” Johnny asked, perplexed.

“He gets a kick out of the way the two of you work so well together,” Marco stated flatly.

“Huh?” Johnny questioned.

“I think what he means is that we even work together to get our lunch ready quickly,” Roy deadpanned. “Want me to feed him too, Chet?”

“Hey, he’s your partner, man. Do whatever ya gotta do,” Chet said continuing to slurp his own bowl of soup.

“Speaking of what we have to do,” Mike began, pushing his empty bowl aside and propping his elbows on the white tabletop. “Anybody got any ideas for how to deal with,” he glanced over his shoulder toward the door then jerked his head in the direction of the captain’s office.

“I thought maybe we’d get a run to Rampart at some point and Johnny and I could talk to Dr. Brackett but so far that hasn’t happened.” Roy pulled a few crackers out of the package as he waited for his soup to cool. He hoped someone would offer a workable solution but the silence around the table dashed his hopes. 

“He hasn’t come out of his office since we got back from our last run,” Mike explained to the paramedics.

“Yea, and he hasn’t been on the phone either, fellas,” Marco added.

“Well, we can’t upset him and then get a run in the middle of it. That could put our citizens in danger.”

“And us too, John. Did you see him with that kid at the gas station earlier?” Mike waited for the younger man to answer.

“Not s’ much as heard ‘im,” Johnny mumbled around a mouthful of ham sandwich. “We’d’ve been written up for doin’ that.”

“I know.” Mike tapped his fingers on the table, unaware of how much the action was annoying his crewmates. He felt a sense of responsibility to the group because of his rank. He also felt a certain heaviness on his shoulders knowing that what he should do was very different from what he wanted to do. “Cap always tries to keep things in house, right?”

Several verbal confirmations were mumbled around the table. Johnny and Roy continued eating, aware that they could get toned out at any minute so they had learned to eat in a hurry while still paying close attention to what was happening around them.

“Then let’s follow his lead. We keep it in house as long as we can.”

“What are saying, Mike? Do we confront him while we’re on shift?” Marco questioned their engineer.

“Aahh, hell.” Chet slammed his napkin down on the table. “I’m in shit up to my eyeballs with him now.”

Johnny snorted around a spoonful of soup then coughed into his napkin. “Then this won’t…ahua…make any dif’ence to ya,” he choked out.

“We’re not asking you to do it alone, Chet. We’re going to all be there and…I guess it’s…it’s my responsibility to do it.” Mike’s mind flashed back to the kitchen scene earlier; Hank’s voice as real as if he were in the room with them.

“You’re responsibility to do what, Stoker?”

Mike jumped around realizing that his captain actually was in the room with them. “Uh, my responsibility to apologize to you for my, um, my behavior earlier, Cap.”

“It was uncalled for, Michael.” Hank pulled a cup from the shelf and began pouring himself a cup of coffee. He had been nauseated since leaving home and the smell of the vegetable soup Chet had been cooking made his symptoms even worse. He grimaced as the stale coffee crossed his tongue and slid down his throat. “Well…I’m waiting.”

“Ahem, I’m sorry for what happened this morning, Cap.”

Hank took another sip allowing his stare to paralyze his engineer in his seat. Slowly, he walked passed him and towards the door. “Accepted,” he grunted as he headed for the dorm hoping that some peace and quiet in the solitude of the darkened room might quiet the steady pounding at his temples as well as slow down his churning stomach.

The crew released a collective sigh of relief when the older man exited the kitchen. 

“Quick thinkin’, Stoker.” Johnny said reaching for his glass of milk.

“Yea but, you shouldn’t have to apologize for the argument,” Chet added.

“I wasn’t,” Mike said, blue eyes staring at the door his superior had exited. “I was apologizing for not finishing what we started.”

“Then how do we finish it?” Roy asked, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “We can’t do it here on shift and we sure as hell can’t do it at shift change when ‘B’ is here.”

“If the opportunity doesn’t present itself while we’re here today, then maybe we just need to all go to his house in the morning,” Mike said.  
“And Rebecca?” Marco asked leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

“We’ll be there to protect her. He can’t take on the five of us,” Mike answered confidently.

“But what about when we leave?”

Mike looked over at Chet knowing the young man was making a valid point. “I’m not leaving until this thing gets resolved,” Mike answered hoping his voice sounded more confident than his heart felt at the moment.

E!

An hour later, Hank was standing in front of a structure he recognized watching men under his command towing lines into the burning building. Mike stood near the engine totally engrossed in monitoring the gauges giving the men what they needed when they needed it and keeping them as safe as possible. Hank saw that Mike’s back was turned to the structure and he relaxed a bit, confident that his engineer had everything under control. When he returned his attention to the fire, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The structure, in the agony of dying, appeared to be breathing. Billows of black smoke tried to escape from the windows and doors only to be sucked back in again by an unseen force.   
“NO! GET OUT!” His shouts were drowned out by the rushing and popping sound of the fire consuming the structure. He turned to Mike with fear in his eyes only to discover that Mike was gone. He looked around him at the other units responding with Station 51 but the red vehicles with the flashing lights were vacant, the men nowhere to be found. In the distance, he watched as two men pulled a hose into the front entrance making a quick left turn. The names on their turnouts made his knees go weak. 

“NO! Jacobs retreat! Carrigan, get out!” 

His shouts never left the confines of his throat and his feet were as heavy as lead. He struggled to get to the two men knowing that if he allowed them to stay inside the building they would be killed in the backdraft but the harder he struggled to get to them the more paralyzed he felt. Then the flash he had known was coming accompanied by the explosion rocked him to his core and sent him reeling backwards until his back slammed against the engine. His head was pounding and his back aching as he groped around in the darkness unable to open his eyes. He didn’t want to see the carnage and yet he remembered that there was no one else there to help. They had all abandoned him, even his own crew had deserted the scene. Finally, he sucked in a deep breath preparing to charge into what was left of the structure to rescue Jacobs and Carrigan but when he opened his eyes…he saw the brick walls of the dorm. Frantic wild eyes roamed the interior of the darkened room as his ragged breathing echoed in his ears; sweat trickled down along the side of his cheek. 

“Damn it!” He muttered into the silence of the room. “Another fucking nightmare.” 

He pulled his thin body up to a sitting position feeling the now familiar churning in his stomach. He knew he didn’t have long and hoped no one was in the latrine to know that he was about to vomit. If his paramedics knew then they’d insist on checking him out. Again, his stomach lurched and he swallowed back the burning as he stumbled through the door and past the rows of wooden lockers. The moment he made it to the toilet, he lost control and heaved his stomach contents into the white porcelain basin. Once he was certain the event was over, he flushed the toilet then made his way to the nearest sink to splash cold water on his face. He patted it dry with a few paper towels, refusing to look in the mirror. He no longer recognized the haunted eyes that he knew would be staring back at him from the glass.

E!

Finally, shortly after dinner Roy backed the squad into the parking spot beside the ambulance that had carried his partner and an asthmatic child to Rampart General’s emergency entrance. On two previous runs earlier in the day, Dr. Brackett had been in surgery rendering him unavailable to talk with the paramedics about their captain. Now, as Roy stepped out of the squad with the handie talkie in his right hand, he began to formulate how he would discuss the issue with his medical director. He hated admitting that they had violated their captain’s privacy by snooping around inside his locker but he feared the physician would demand to know the details leaving him with no choice.

He made the right turn down the corridor and gave Dixie a slight nod as she stepped into treatment room four behind Dr. Brackett. Roy could hear his partner’s voice relaying pertinent information to the hospital staff regarding his seven year old male patient. 

“Marquez decided to play with a neighbor’s dog about an hour ago. His breathing has improved some with the oxygen and epi. He’s groggy but oriented. Here’s his latest numbers,” Johnny pulled the tiny tablet from his shirt pocket and passed it to Dixie who transcribed it into the patient’s chart. 

“Ok, I’ve got it Johnny,” she said returning the small spiral notebook before turning her attention to the small child. “Hey there,” she smiled warmly.

“Doc, you need me?” Johnny asked.

Dr. Brackett was listening intently to the child’s lungs looking up at the paramedic as he removed the ear pieces from his stethoscope. “Ah, no Johnny, we’ve got it.”

Johnny switched out the oxygen on the patient from the squad’s portable canister to the hospital’s in-room supply. He then gathered up the rolling canister and the orange biophone and headed for the door. He hesitated for a moment, turning around and watching the hospital staff working to improve Marquez’ condition. He waited for the physician to step away from the child slightly while Dixie administered a breathing treatment and he chose that moment to speak to him.

“Ah, say Doc?”

“Yes?”

“When ya get a minute, uh, Roy and I need to speak with ya privately please?” 

“Sure, John. Wait for me in the lounge.” He then returned to reading his patient’s chart.

Johnny stepped out of the room looking both ways down the corridor. He knew Roy had been behind the ambulance and surmised that he would be in the staff lounge waiting for the opportunity to speak with Dr. Brackett as well. Johnny pushed open the door and found his partner sitting at the table nursing a cup of coffee with a dull expression on his face. 

The sound of the door opening brought Roy out of his reverie. “How’s the kid?”

“Oh, he’ll be a’right. ‘S long as he stays away from the neighbor’s dog,” he grinned reaching for a cup off the shelf. “I, uh, I told Brackett we needed to speak to him when he got a chance. He should be finished up in there soon,” he said turning his steaming cup in the general direction of treatment room four. 

Roy eyed his partner as the younger man took a seat across from him. “How’re we gonna do this?” He asked, his blue eyes looking almost grey.

“I guess just ask some general questions about mixing caffeine with temazepam.” Johnny blew across his cup before taking a tentative sip.

“And when he asks us why we want to know?” Roy liked being prepared for everything and wanted to have a response ready for the question he knew his medical director would ask.

Johnny stared into the darkness of his coffee cup resting between his interlaced fingers. He hated to be so secretive but he also knew that Dr. Brackett could make one phone call to headquarters and their captain could be pulled in for a physical. While that sounded like a workable plan, it would be better to convince the man to see a physician on his own terms and hopefully, keep unnecessary information out of his personnel file. Of course, ultimately, if he was deemed unfit for duty either physically or mentally then the repercussions would be difficult for the man they all respected so deeply.

Fifteen minutes later, a tired dark haired physician pushed open the door of the staff lounge. “Mind if I drink a cup of coffee while we talk?” He pulled a coffee cup off the shelf without comment from his paramedics who knew his question was a rhetorical one.

Johnny and Roy shared a strained stare; each one waiting for the other to start the conversation. Roy cleared his throat feeling a sense of responsibility since he and Marco had been the two who had found their captain so intoxicated and behaving out of character at Cinders.

“Ahem, what would happen if someone mixed large amounts of caffeine with temazepam?” Roy stared at the back of Dr. Brackett’s white lab coat as the man finished preparing his coffee.

The physician couldn’t stop the grin that spread to one corner of his tired face. He turned around, leaning his hip against the cabinet as he faced the two inquisitive medics. “Oh, don’t worry fellas…it’s just one cup of coffee and I haven’t taken any temazepam for years now,” he said with a sly wink. When the two paramedics didn’t join in his chuckling, his face grew more serious. He pulled out a chair and joined the other two men at the table. “I take it that was a serious question?”

“Yes, it was,” Roy confirmed.

The dark haired physician’s mouth twitched worriedly as his blue eyes darted between the two men. “Alright, then care to tell me who this involves?”

“Uh, not really, Doc. Not yet anyway,” Johnny piped up.

Dr. Brackett lowered his eyes again taking another drink of the energizing java. If these two men were asking such a serious question then he knew the situation was important. He respected them, maybe not initially, but over the years his faith and trust in the work these two men did had grown exponentially. He swallowed feeling the burn from the back of his throat down to his belly as he formulated his response.

“Well, a few cups of coffee mixed with temazepam shouldn’t cause any noticeable side effects other than taking a bit longer to get to sleep and increasing the person’s pulse rate and BP.” He looked seriously at the two men. “But I know that you two already know that so are you asking me about high concentrations of caffeine?”

“Yea,” Roy said in nearly a whisper. “Caffeine pills.”

Again, Kel felt his mouth twitch as he reached for his coffee cup. “Truck driver?” He asked then held up his hand. “I’m sorry, forget I asked.”

“Doc, we just might know someone who’s in trouble but we’re…we’re not sure yet. We’ll be sure to let you know if it’s something we can’t, um, handle.” John licked his lips; his mouth suddenly feeling dry. 

“Fair enough,” the physician began again. “Ok, if someone mixes temazepam with high levels of caffeine then the effects of the caffeine will likely be enhanced. That’s why it’s important for physician’s to know everything a person is consuming before prescribing another drug to add to the mix. So, if this person is taking the temazepam for sleep induction then they aren’t going to sleep very well mixing it with caffeine pills. Of course, they shouldn’t be taking caffeine pills if they’re trying to sleep anyway.”

“What if they’re not taking it for sleeping?” Roy asked.

“You mean if it’s for anxiety?” 

“Yea,” Roy confirmed.

“Well, caffeine isn’t going to help the anxiety any,” he scoffed. “I certainly wouldn’t recommend combining the two but…well, actually I don’t recommend caffeine pills anyway. It can cause a lot of gastric inflammation but… if they are taking it for anxiety…well, they still shouldn’t mix it with other substances as it could change how it along with the other substances are metabolized. So, if the patient is taking other medications, drinks alcohol regularly, pops caffeine pills or…” He stopped when the handie talkie beeped.

‘Squad 51, what’s your status?’

Roy keyed the mic. “Squad 51 available.”

‘Stand by for a response.’

Johnny silently cursed the timing of the call as the tones began their ominous series.

“Sounds bad,” the physician noted as the various tones continued. He watched both men jump to their feet, gulping their coffee and setting the cups in the sink as they awaited their instructions.

‘Station 165, Station 127, Station 51, Battalion 14, Truck 110, Station 99…structure fire at…,’ the voice of Sam Lanier faded down the hallway as the two medics rushed to their squad leaving behind a very perplexed emergency room physician. 

“Stay safe, fellas.” Dr. Brackett lifted his coffee cup as if in a lonely toast. He brought the cup to his lips just as his brain connected all the dots. He thought back over the conversation he had shared with a certain fire captain who had been his patient a month before remembering his prescribed treatment and he slowly lowered the cup back to the table. “Oh-no……what are you doing, Hank?”

E!


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Thank you to everyone who is continuing to read this series. I appreciate your encouragement and correction as it truly helps me improve my craft.

 

Warning: extreme language

Hank’s Haunting – 18

Hank’s slim body lurched forward as Mike brought the engine to a halt near the south side of the structure. His helmet shifted slightly causing him to reach up and tighten his chin strap as he stepped out of the cab and toward the Chief for their assignment.

The three story cream colored wooden structure was more reminiscent of an old Southern manor from the Victorian era than a modern day residence. The ornate woodwork along the eaves and porch railings gave it a mysterious charm while the wrap around porch lazily enveloped the soft curvature of the exterior. Lattice work provided a cover for the crawl space completing the serene exterior. But at the moment, there was nothing peaceful about the structure. Angry flames licked skyward from the second floor windows trying desperately to ignite the eaves and window boxes on the third floor with their scorching tongues. Dark smoke billowed from the bottom floor windows blackening the outer edges of the orifices like smudges of mascara beneath the eyes of a dramatic actress. Now that at least two lines of water were being aimed at her front porch, the outer façade of the dying mansion appeared to be weeping.

“Chief, what’ve we got?”

“Hank, this old house has been converted into six apartments but everyone’s accounted for so no search and rescue. I need your men manning lines on the back side to…,” he stopped abruptly as both men ducked. Shattered glass and pieces of burning debris showered the front lawn as the explosion ripped through the inner walls on the upper floor of the historic old home.

“Damn,” Hank cursed, patting his Chief on the shoulder. “You alright?”

“Yea,” the older man said looking around the perimeter. No one had been allowed very close yet so there were no casualties. “She’s too hot to fight up close at this point. Surround and drown, Hank. That’s all we can do with this one. There’s no saving her but we can at least prevent it from spreading to nearby structures.”

Hank nodded his blood shot eyes at his Chief then turned back toward his crew. Just as he loped over to where they were gathered, Roy pulled the squad to a stop near her bigger sister.

“Son of a…”

“Bitch,” John finished his partner’s statement. Both men realized this was the largest structure fire they had been called out on since the night Kyle Carrigan had lost his life. They donned their gear in silence, each man wondering if their captain was up to the task at hand. 

Hank issued his orders succinctly and professionally, watching as his two lineman manned one hose, and his two paramedics manned the other. Mike stood sentinel at the pump panel while Captain Stanley surveyed the situation. The sun had just dipped below the horizon directly behind the structure. For a moment, it was easy to blend the shades of the setting sun with the raging inferno grabbing harshly at the dark purple clouds hanging overhead. His heartbeat quickened as his eyes drifted back downward to the activity on the ground. Tired aching eyes scanned the backs of the turnouts searching for the two men he’d been trying to rescue for the last month. “DeSoto, Gage,” he mumbled. He scanned the remainder of his crew a few feet away. “Lopez, Kelly,” he continued. He had to read the names out loud just to convince himself that he wasn’t dreaming again. He then turned back around and watched as Mike carefully monitored the gauges. “Ok, Stoker’s here.”

Sweat was pouring from his face, soaking his collar beneath his turnouts. He began inhaling deeply as his mind continued to replay that horrific scene from another structure fire. He watched his four men continuing to achieve their goal of cooling down the exterior, soaking down any embers whisked onto the lawn by the wind. His stomach churned each time one of his men shifted his position; he wouldn’t let anyone go near the inferno. He strained his eyes for any signs of impending danger, his mouth growing dryer by the minute. Eventually, the wind began to swirl around sending the acrid smoke blowing in his direction. He neither shielded his eyes nor shifted to avoid inhaling the smoke as he stared into the mixture of soot, smoke, dust and debris. He had to watch his men. If one of them so much as stepped toward the building, Hank was prepared to tackle him. His throat constricted denying him his breath, and his eyes burned as panic overtook him.

“Ahua… ahuahua…,” the older man coughed fitfully, leaning an elbow against the engine for support.

“Cap?” Mike questioned over his shoulder, hearing his captain’s heaving coughs.

“Ahua...,” Hank continued, dropping to his knees then leaning over on his hands, desperately trying to catch his breath.

“DE SOTO! GAGE!” Mike shouted, shutting down the flow to the line his paramedics were manning. 

Both men saw their captain on the ground and quickly headed to him. Johnny stopped by the squad removing equipment while Roy kneeled down beside their gagging superior. Mike hurriedly grabbed the oxygen from its compartment on the engine and set it down beside Roy.

“What happened?” Roy asked, resting a compassionate hand on Hank's shoulder.

Hank bucked, forcing Roy’s hand off of him.

“Smoke shifted and he ate some,” Mike answered when their captain began another round of coughing.

“Ahua… ahuahua… aarruugh,” Hank lost the battle with his stomach and vomited onto the grass on the backside of the engine.

“What’s wrong?” Johnny asked, his dark eyes shifting from his partner to his engineer then back down at their heaving captain as he lowered the equipment to the ground.

“Smoke inhalation,” Roy responded flatly.

Mike returned to his post while keeping an eye and an ear on the goings on with his captain. He saw Johnny wetting some gauze to wipe Hank's face then saw the older man shove him roughly.

John landed hard on his backside, angrily tossing the dampened gauze to the ground. “Hey, now Cap…”

“Don’t treat me like some god damn child, Gage!” The older man sat back on his haunches. “If I can… ahua… wipe my own ass then… ahua… I can wipe… ahuahua… my own mouth, got it?”

“Yes. Sir,” Johnny grunted through gritted teeth.

Roy was momentarily stunned by the outburst then reached for the mask from the oxygen tank. “Here, Cap,” he began, stretching the band preparing it to go over Hank’s head then thought better of it. Instead, he placed it in the older man’s hand. “Better breathe into this for a few minutes.”

“Ahua… Don’t need it… ahua.”

Roy and Johnny both looked at Mike for support. The exasperated engineer pressed his lips into a thin line, shaking his head. Finally, he stepped closer to their coughing captain. “Cap, we need you here, but if you don’t sit on the tailboard for a few minutes breathing some of that oxygen then Chief’s gonna call an ambulance for you. Don’t wanna go to Rampart now do you?”

Several tense moments passed with Hank continuing to cough and spit. Finally, with a shaky hand, he held the oxygen mask against his face mumbling a few expletives the men couldn’t quite make out. 

“We’re goin’ back on our line,” Johnny said sharply, removing his gloves from his pocket and stomping back toward the fire while pulling them on.

Roy turned worried eyes at his engineer. “Let us know if you need us back over here,” he said in Mike’s general direction.

Mike gave him a gentle nod then returned his attention to the panel. When they were ready, he charged their line then kept an eye on the man leaning against the back of the engine. 

As time passed, the battle to prevent the spread of the fire was won, but twice more Hank lost the battle to control his nausea. The sickening mixture of acid burned his esophagus and throat. Each time he took a few sips of water to counteract the painful stinging sensation, his stomach would boil and he would find himself again spitting the vile vomitus on the backside of the engine, out of the view of the others especially the incident commander. But he wasn’t fooling his engineer. Mike quietly continued working, making a mental note each time Hank got sick or had a coughing spasm. He was waiting, calculating the risk Hank was putting himself and their crew in, and he didn’t like the sum of this mathematical exercise.

E!

The ride back to the station was made in complete silence; exhaustion mixed with worry and a hint of anger swirled around inside both vehicles, silencing the six men. Mike backed the engine into place glancing to his left to see their younger paramedic slamming his door much harder than necessary. He really didn’t blame John; their captain had been rather rough with him back at the scene when all the young man was trying to do was his job. Mike opened his door and stepped down just as Hank meandered around the front of the engine, his shoulders sagging beneath an unseen weight.

“Why don’t you go ahead and get your shower, Cap?” Mike offered.

“Why don’t you mind your own damn business, Michael?”

Mike released a frustrated sigh; he understood completely why John had slammed his door so hard, wishing now he had done the same thing. He opened his mouth in retort then closed it again seeing a worried Marco standing against the engine shaking his head.

“Go ahead, Mike. I’ll keep an eye on him while you get cleaned up for bed.”

“Thanks,” the engineer said with a pat on his lineman’s shoulder. He wanted a hot shower but wondered briefly if perhaps he needed a cold one instead. He needed to both cool his steaming frustration as well as wake up. This was shaping up to be a long night.

Hank sat down at his desk looking at the log book. He dipped his chin down towards his chest as he fought the urge to cough again. He had to keep his men from hearing him or risk being checked out by his paramedics...again. The scent from their last run was evident on his clothing and in his hair, but he didn't care. He opened up the log book and began his notations, but stopped in the middle of it to flip back several pages. 

Hank reviewed the entry he'd made the night of the fire that had killed Kyle Carrigan, and left his partner fighting for his life in Rampart's Intensive Care Unit. He had been told that Firefighter/Paramedic Jacobs had improved tremendously, and was now receiving outpatient physical therapy. He understood that the man planned on returning to the job that nearly took his life, and that thought caused a quiet sob to escape from his parched throat. Reaching up, he rubbed his already bloodshot eyes, swiping at the moisture that was pooling along the corners only to rub stinging soot into them.

"Aarrgh, shit!" He screamed, slamming the log book closed and digging into his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"Cap?" 

Hank continued rubbing his face, ignoring Marco's knocks and pleading call.

"Cap, you alright? Can I come in?" He hesitated only a moment, then turned the knob.

"WHAT, Lopez?" Hank barked, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I thought I heard you call out? You, ah... You need something?" Marco was alarmed by the expression on his captain's face, but it was one he knew well. "Eyes burning?"

"Yes, damn it."

"I'll get Roy to flush them out," he said, turning around and bumping into the man he had just mentioned to his captain.

"Oh, uh, Roy, Cap got soot in his eyes, I think," he mentioned casually, although his face held a stern worried appearance.

"I'll take care of it," Roy said, stepping to the squad and removing the black box he would need.

“Alright, lean back a little, Cap, so I can flush your eyes out,” Roy requested, holding the bottle of saline over Hank’s face.

Roy pulled the older man’s eyelids apart, and began squirting the solution across his irritated eyeballs, liquid pouring down the sides of his face and onto his already dingy, smoky uniform.

As Roy continued his ministrations, Mike rushed to the doorway of the captain’s office, bunker pants and suspenders covering a clean white t-shirt, his hair still damp. “What’s wrong?”

“I just got a little soot in my eyes, Stoker, don’t make a federal case out of it,” Hank scolded.

“Well, excuse the hell outta me for being concerned,” Mike shot back, his own temper beginning to flare. He felt Marco’s gentle hand pressing him squarely in the middle of his chest and looked back down at their senior lineman. 

Marco simply shook his head negatively without saying anything. No words were necessary. Mike knew that raising his own voice would do nothing to de-escalate the situation. He exhaled a sigh then turned and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. 

Johnny heard the door swinging open and looked up over the rim of his own glass of water. “What’sa matter with you, Mike?”

“Nothing,” he lied, filling an amber colored glass with tap water. “Just got my ass chewed out for being concerned about our captain.”

Johnny allowed a sarcastic half grin to spread across the left side of his face as he snorted. “Yea, well, welcome to the club, Mike. Helluva fraternity we’ve got goin’,” he groaned, turning up his glass. “Marco in the shower?”

“Nah, Chet’s in there now. Marco and Roy are flushing out Cap’s eyes.”

“Lucky them,” John mumbled, tiredly staggering out the door and into the latrine to wait for his turn to get cleaned up.

E!

Three hours later, a couple of soft snores began filling the dorm room as Johnny and Chet both dropped off to sleep as quickly as their heads hit their pillows. Marco, Roy and Mike stood inside the locker room whispering their concerns for Hank who had just stepped inside the shower stall.

“We’ve got to stay awake and see if he gets any sleep tonight,” Roy suggested.

“I know but, even if he doesn’t, we really can’t do anything about it. I mean, it’s not like we can order him to lie down,” Marco shot back. 

“Bet you anything he hits the pills again when he gets out of the shower,” Mike said, just as the group heard the water turn off. “Alright, I’m heading to the kitchen to wait.”

“Don’t confront him alone, Mike,” Roy whispered.

Mike merely turned his head around and mouthed the words, ‘I won’t’ to the paramedic as the trio dispersed. Marco and Roy padded to the dorm while Mike headed to the kitchen for another glass of water. He knew how important it was to rehydrate after a long hot fire.

Marco and Roy closed their eyes pretending to be asleep when Hank entered the dorm a few minutes later. Quietly, he stepped into his bunkers, snapping his suspenders in place as he shuffled out the door.

“Stoker was right,” Marco whispered across the room.

“Yep,” Roy responded, turning onto his back and staring at the ceiling. “Gonna be a long night.”

E!

“Still thirsty?”

Hank looked begrudgingly at the tall engineer who stood leaning one hip against the sink, his arms crossing his chest, holding an empty glass. “Yes… Do you mind?” 

Mike stepped away from the counter, allowing Hank better access to the faucet. He watched as his captain unashamedly tossed something to the back of his throat then turned up the glass of water. He only took a few swallows before tossing the rest down the drain, leaving the glass in the sink. He felt Mike staring at him, and stood up to his full height, leveling the engineer with a haunting stare. 

“Is there some reason why you’re not in bed, Stoker?”

“Some reason why you aren’t in bed, Stanley?” Mike shot back, regretting the uncharacteristic remark immediately.

A fury like none Hank had ever known over took him. He clenched his fists in rage as his breathing increased, his heart pounding inside his chest. “Get. Your. Ass. In. Bed. NOW!”

Mike knew he had crossed the line. As much as he wanted to stay up to see what Hank was going to do, he knew better than to disobey a direct order. “Yes. Sir,” he said, brushing past the older man. 

Hank waited for the younger man to make his way to the dorm before he pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table. His entire body was trembling from a mixture of anger, fatigue, worry, and several other emotions he had never experienced simultaneously. His leg began to bounce as his stomach once again began the burn to which he had grown accustomed. He had decided several days ago that it was some type of punishment for the hell he had sent Carrigan and Jacobs into on that fateful night. He would accept it as his penance for his failure, but the one thing he couldn’t accept was the nightmares he continued to find himself in the grips of. He could never allow those to find their way into the station when he was on shift. 

Finally, he lowered his aching head onto his crossed arms on the kitchen table. His mind thinking back to his injured wife. “Oh god, Becca. What’ve I done to you? What’ve I done to our family?” His shoulders began to quake as his near silent sobs racked his upper body. Unbidden tears dripped onto the white table top as he sniffled, unable to stop the release of the pain he had been holding inside for weeks now. He coughed a few times as his lungs continued to protest the intrusion of the smoke from their earlier run, but Hank never raised his head. He had no more strength. In fact, he had almost reached the point where he had no more will to even inhale his next breath. 

E!

Hank never heard the klaxons sound. He had obviously fallen into a heavy sleep because the next thing he saw around him was his men pulling their turnout coats over their bunker pants, and scampering for their seats in their respective vehicles. His mind panicked, realizing he had no idea about their destination, but when he saw Roy pulling the squad into the street and Mike following, sirens and lights blaring, he knew he must have given the address to the paramedics, as he normally did each time the station was called out. 

Soon, they were pulling up to the scene of a structure fire, the scene once again eerily similar to the one where Carrigan had been killed. 

“NO!” He shouted, seeing two men with a hose running into the structure. He was too far away to read the names on their coats but somehow he knew that they were in imminent danger. 

“GET BACK!” He shouted into the night, watching in horror as his paramedics grabbed a line and followed them inside.

“Stoker! Stop them!” He screamed, hoping to see his engineer dashing to rescue his wayward men. He didn’t have time to stand around and stare though, as he watched in horror as   
Marco stepped onto the tailboard, wrapping a line across his shoulders and looping sections of it in the crook of his elbow, pulling the hose off the back of the engine. The senior lineman nodded to his younger partner, who positioned himself to back Marco.

“Damn it! HALT, LOPEZ!” Captain Stanley shouted between his cupped hands. “Get back. All of you, GET BACK!”

As the men continued ignoring his commands, his voice became even more frantic. He rushed to his lineman, reaching out with both hands, and grabbing a handful of turnout coat, the stenciled name of “Kelly” crumbled in his clenched hands. 

“I said, BACK OFF, CHET!” He screamed, spinning the young man around, and without a second thought, his balled up fist connected with the jawline of the curly haired lineman, sending him reeling backwards with a shout.

“OW! FUCK, CAP!”

E!

A shout echoed through the bay, alarming the three men who had fallen into a light sleep in the dorm.

“That’s, Cap. Let’s go fellas,” Mike said, authoritatively.

Marco and Roy sailed out of bed, dragging their sleepy partners with them. Mike was the first to rush through the kitchen door, seeing Hank trapped in the agony of a hellish nightmare.

“What the,” Johnny groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he weaved around the vehicles and into the kitchen behind Marco and Roy.

“Geez, can’t even sleep when the damn tones ain’t goin’ off,” Chet grumbled, eyes squinted in the bright light of the kitchen.

“Cap, wake up!” Mike said shaking his captain’s shoulders lightly.

“NO! Stoker, stop them!” Hank mumbled, his eyes wild and unseeing.

“HANK!” Marco yelled, trying to rescue the man from his world of agony.

“Damn it! Halt, Lopez!” Hank shouted, pointing an index finger at his lineman, their eyes never really connecting.

“Cap, c’mon, man. Ya gotta wake up!” Chet called out, making the mistake of grabbing the older man’s upper arms.

Hank jumped to his feet, sending the wooden chair backwards and crashing to the hard floor with a cracking sound. His glassy eyes were looking directly through his younger lineman. 

“Back off, Chet,” he yelled menacingly, balling up his fist and slamming it directly into the groggy man’s face.

Chet was thrown backwards off his feet, landing in a heap beneath the brown wall oven, shouting his curses at his captain. The jolting realization of what had just happened sent Johnny immediately to Chet’s aid as the remaining three men tackled Hank, pinning him to the cold floor of the kitchen. Marco, being heavier than the other two, quickly straddled their captain as Roy managed to tame his thrashing legs, and Mike forced his wrists flat against the floor near his head. 

“Stop it, Hank!” Marco shouted, hoping the use of his first name would bring the terrified man out of his nightmare. “Cut it out, Cap!”

Hank Stanley continued to struggle with nearly super-human strength. In his mind, he was watching not only Carrigan die all over again while Jacobs got hurt, but he was now watching his entire crew ignore his orders and rush into the doomed building… and certain death. His labored breathing became a gurgle as he fought to scream and cough in the same breath. 

“Aarruugh, ahuahua!”

Mike leaned down, mere inches from his friend’s face as he fought to keep the older man from hurting himself or someone else. Then, at the top of his lungs, he shouted, “Wake up, Hank! Becca needs you NOW!”

Glassy eyes began to focus as the struggling man’s resistance rapidly faded. “Be-Becca?” His own voice sounding foreign to him as the fog in his brain cleared. His hand ached and he knew immediately that he had hit something…or someone. That thought reached down from his brain into his heart, squeezing the air out of his lungs, threatening to steal his soul. Had he really done it again? 

“Ohmygod, NO! No, Becca, please? Please, be ok… Oh god, sweetheart, please… ple…,” His voice grew silent for a moment only to be replaced by his agonizing wails of despair. “AAaahhh! I-I’m sor-ry… Oh god, for-give me, Becca. Please, ple-ease be a’right,” he hiccupped pitifully, his men feeling his pain-filled cries as if they were coming from somewhere deep inside their own hearts. The man they held in such high esteem, their mentor, their friend, their brother, was hurting… And the pain was shared by them all.

E!


	19. chapter 19

Warning: extreme language

Hank – 19

Hank Stanley continued his mournful wails, calling out the name of his beloved wife, whom he thought he had once again assaulted while in the throes of a nightmare. Marco and Roy kept up their efforts to restrain him, but Mike had finally loosened his grip on the older man’s arms. 

“Cap? Cap, listen to me! Becca’s fine. She’s just fine. She isn’t here, understand?” Mike questioned.

Hank once again heard the name of his precious wife echoing in his ears, and suddenly realized that his hands were no longer being pinned to the floor. He brought both of them up, covering his face as he continued to push the fog of the nightmare back into the bowels of hell from which it had ascended.

“Sh-she’s,” he gulped, his words being muffled from behind his quivering hands. “She’s, ok?”

Mike reached down, gently parting his captain’s wrists revealing the tortured, tear-stained face of the broken man. “Hank, look at me!” He ordered, his coaxing voice filled with concern, and a hint of authority.

Hazel, blood-shot eyes fluttered open, squinting at the light overhead, and the face of his engineer. “M-Mike?”

“Yea, that’s better. Cap’n Stanley, we’re all here at the station. Becca’s at home sleeping.” 

“You were having a nightmare, Cap,” Marco chimed in, still unwilling to relinquish his position atop the downed man. 

Hank tried to lick his dry lips, unable to find even the slightest bit of moisture with which to dampen them. He could feel the sweat rolling just below his hairline as the adrenaline began to slowly fade in his bloodstream. Shame and remorse filled his aching heart. His crew now knew his secret pain, his weakness, the ineptness that had ultimately led to the death of a fellow firefighter, and severe injury of another. How could they ever trust him or his leadership again? How could he face his own men? He screwed his eyes shut, the images from moments ago fading as the seconds ticked by. He felt Roy releasing his legs, and lastly, Marco repositioning himself so that he was kneeling beside his captain rather than sitting on him. 

Slowly, Hank curled up into a fetal position, his shivering body feeling the coldness of the floor beneath his damp t-shirt. He wanted to disappear, to liquefy his body, and drain between the minuscule cracks between the tiles of the floor. He tried to think of a plausible story for what his crew had just witnessed, but nothing came to mind. They were smart men, good men, and he knew they wouldn’t believe any lie he might scheme up. No, he had been found out, betrayed by his own guilt-ridden subconscious that seemed so intent on him reliving that horrific night every time he closed his eyes. 

“I’m gonna get the equipment and check him out,” Roy whispered to Marco.

Across the room, Johnny was palpating Chet’s jawline and cheekbone. “Looks like he didn’t do any permanent damage. Still think ya need to go have it x-rayed, though.”

Chet tentatively opened and closed his mouth, then slowly shifted his lower jaw from side to side, wincing with the movement. “Damn, who knew Cap had it in ‘im? I feel sorry for the boys who wanna date his daughters!”

Johnny stood, offering a hand to his injured shift mate. “Let’s get ya an ice pack.”

Chet pulled out a chair and plopped into it, continuing to rub his bruised jaw while Johnny prepared him an ice pack. His head was beginning to throb. “Gage, ya got any aspirin?”

“I’ll get ya a couple,” Johnny responded, dropping the ice pack onto the table with a loud crash right beside Chet’s head, startling the young lineman.

“Damn, Johnny. Do ya mind? I’m injured!”

Johnny rolled his eyes, reaching for the white bottle above the sink. “Geez, Chet. Ya got belted, not shot, a’right?”

“Oh yea? Well, next time why don’t you take a right hook from Sugar Ray Stanley over there?” Chet complained.

“Noooo, thank ya,” Johnny shot back, then looked up as Roy walked in with the drug box and IV kit. “Need any help?” He asked his partner, not waiting for an answer as he stood in preparation to attend to their captain.

“He ok?” Roy questioned, nodding at the Irishman who sat grumbling with the ice pack on his cheek.

“He’ll live,” Johnny said, much to Chet’s chagrin. “How’s Cap?”

Roy gave both men a look that nearly leveled them. His only response to the question was a slight negative nod of his head as he knelt down with his equipment.

“Sit tight, Chet.” Johnny squeezed the back of his friend’s neck, never looking back at the bruised lineman as he made his way to assist his partner. 

Hank felt his stomach churning again as he continued his anguished groans. He sensed the presence of his men closing in on him, and began to swallow rapidly, fighting the nauseating urge again. 

“Cap? Cap, roll onto your back for me, a’right? We need to check ya out,” Johnny urged softly, his hand gently pulling back on the older man’s right shoulder, coaxing him from his fetal position. 

Hank tightened up his muscles, resisting the tugging of his paramedic.

“Cap, Roy needs to check your BP and he can’t do it like this.” Johnny was trying desperately to convince his captain to lie on his back. 

“C-can’t, gon-gonna be s-sick,” Hank explained raggedly, just as his stomach lurched. 

“I got it,” Mike said, jumping up and grabbing a large handful of paper towels. He knew his captain didn’t have the strength to make it to the kitchen garbage can. He placed the paper towels strategically near Hank’s mouth with only seconds to spare. 

Hank had very little in his stomach, but spent the next few moments dry heaving, and spitting out what little bile his worn and weary system produced, embarrassed by the position in which he found himself. 

“Ugh,” Hank groaned, still breathing rapidly, and hugging his aching abdomen.

“Better now?” Roy asked.

“Y-yea,” he managed, allowing Johnny to roll him onto his back.

Marco left to retrieve a wet washcloth as Roy began pumping up the blood pressure cuff. Johnny glanced at his watch as he checked respirations and pulse on their captain. Worried dark eyes met anxious blue ones as the two men communicated without words. 

“Better call in a still alarm, Mike,” Roy began in a flat, soft voice. “We’ll need an ambulance too.”

“N-no, Michael. No am-ambulance, pl-please?” Hank requested, continuing his ragged breathing.

“Sorry, Cap. You need to get to the hospital, and we’re going to take care of you… get you there as quickly as possible.” Mike hated to upset the older man even more, but he knew that what he was doing was the right thing.

Johnny stood and Roy instinctively knew he was going to retrieve the biophone.

“John, let’s call it in, alright? Just in case another squad’s on a run using the same frequency.”

Johnny nodded his understanding, and knew that Roy was trying to keep their captain’s condition as private as possible. He loped over to the phone in the day room, and dialed the familiar number. It rang twice before a nurse answered it.

“Rampart Emergency, Nurse Williams speaking.”

“Rampart, this is squad 51. We have a still alarm at our station. Stand by for vitals.”

“Standing by, 51,” she responded.

Dr. Brackett flipped the metal chart closed, and replaced it into the hanging rack at the nurses desk. He overheard Nurse Williams’ side of the conversation, and immediately reached for the receiver.

“Go ahead 51,” he said, pulling out his pen preparing to take notes.

John recognized the voice of Dr. Brackett on the other end of the line, and once again looked at his watch. It was after five o’clock in the morning, meaning that either the emergency room physician had come in for an early shift, or else he’d had a very long night.

“Rampart, we have a male victim, approximately 38 years old. Vitals are pulse 100, respiration 24 and shallow, BP is…”

“164/90,” Roy called out, then reached for Hank’s brow to check for a fever. He shook his head negatively as Johnny spoke up again.

“164/90, he’s experiencing nausea and vomiting. He’s diaphoretic but afebrile. He also appears to be dehydrated. Rampart, be advised the victim is Captain Stanley.” He rubbed a worried finger beneath his nose as he waited for a response.

Marco returned, folding a damp cloth, and placing it carefully on Hank’s forehead to relieve his sweaty face, thankful that the ailing man made no attempt to brush it away.

“51, are you currently on a run or is this a still alarm?”

“Still alarm, Rampart. Um, patient was experiencing a nightmare prior to the onset of the symptoms.”

Mike returned, tapping Johnny on the shoulder. “Don’t forget the smoke inhalation earlier.”

“Rampart, patient experienced some smoke inhalation on a run approximately eight to ten hours ago. He also experienced nausea and vomiting at that time.” 

Kelly Brackett stood leaning over the nurse’s station, his mind shuffling through the information his paramedics from 51’s had shared with him earlier during their shift. On a hunch, he asked the question to which he suspected he already knew the answer. “Has he ingested any medications during this shift?”

Johnny turned his attention back to his captain. “Doc wants to know if you’ve taken any medications this shift.” 

“N-no,” Hank whispered, his eyes remaining tightly closed. He didn’t want his men knowing any more of his secrets, but he was unaware that they already knew what he was hiding.

“I’ll go check,” Mike said, standing up, and jogging to the locker room.

“This is serious, Cap,” Roy spoke again, resting a hand on Hank’s abdomen rechecking his respirations. “Have you taken any aspirin, or anything else today?” He stared into the face of his captain waiting for a reply that never came.

“Is the patient conscious?” Dr. Brackett questioned.

“Affirmative,” Johnny responded.

“Ask him if he’s taken any Temazapam or high doses of caffeine,” Dr. Brackett ordered; he was letting his paramedics know that he was aware of whom they had been discussing during their conversation at Rampart on their last run.

Johnny exhaled sharply, not wanting to pass along the question but his medical director had left him no choice. “Hey Cap? Dr. Brackett wants to know if you’ve taken any, uh, any Temazepam or extra caffeine?”

“D-Damn, sonofabitch,” Hank huffed, feeling as if his physician had violated his privacy.

“How ‘bout it, Cap?” Johnny asked, holding the black receiver in his hand, staring down at the pain-filled face of Hank Stanley.

Hank refused to answer his younger medic, but Mike rushed back into the room with two bottles in his hand. “Two more caffeine pills are missing. Temazepam is the same as yesterday morning.”

“Rampart, it appears he’s taken two caffeine pills in the last few hours, and is also taking Temazepam.”

“Michael! Go to hell, you fucking bastard!” Hank’s teeth were clenched in anger, but he couldn’t find the strength to rise from his prone position on the floor. “How dare you go through my bag? I trusted you!” 

Mike knew his captain was aware that his privacy had been violated, and he hated that he had been the one to do it. But, he knew that it was necessary; the man’s life was far more important than his privacy at this point. He reached out a hand, placing it on his superior’s shoulder as he listened to Johnny relaying information in the background. Hank’s words slapped the young engineer hard, but in his heart, Mike knew that it was the pain, and possibly the medications he had ingested, spouting the words at him rather than a true statement of his captain’s feelings.

“Get your damn hands off me!” Hank’s anger was beyond the boiling point, but his body was simply too weak to act on his feelings. “Stay the hell away from me, you god damn snitch!”

Mike thought back to the private conversation he’d shared with his captain in the older man’s office a few days earlier. Even though his promise to Hank had been about alleged station rumors regarding his relationship with Mrs. Stanley, Mike’s own words echoed in his memory, and he knew that now was the time to repeat himself. “Cap…I told you in your office the other day that if I heard any kind of falsehood, I’d put a stop to it. That’s all I’m doing now.” Mike backed away, allowing the paramedics to work, not wanting to upset his captain any more than he already had. He rose, moving over to the table to check on their younger lineman, deliberately distancing himself from the venomous words of his superior.

“How’re you doing, Chet?” The engineer asked, pulling out a chair beside the young man holding the ice pack to his face.

“I’m alright, I guess. What about him?” He questioned, turning his eyes toward their captain.

“He’s in a bad way right now. Looks like he’s gonna be going to Rampart by ambulance. We’ve been stood down for lack of man power until shift change,” Mike spoke, gloomily. 

Chet closed his eyes. He hated to ask the next question, but his heart was aching to know the answer. “You gotta report this don’tcha?”

Mike turned his face back up to look at Chet. It was a fair question, and he wanted to do the right thing. “Yes, I’ll report it for you. You didn’t deserve this, Chet, so don’t feel bad about it… No matter what happens.”

“Aww, man…,” the Irishman huffed. “But it wasn’t his fault, Mike.” Chet removed the ice pack, slamming it down on the table in frustration. “I mean, he didn’t do it on purpose.”

Mike knitted his eyebrows together, confusion written on his face. “Are you saying you don’t want it reported?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“Hell no!” Chet explained, his own voice raspy as he tried to keep Captain Stanley from overhearing the conversation. “I’m sure he’s wanted to lay me out a bunch o’ times since he took over but…,” he hesitated. “But, he never did it. At least, not until a few minutes ago.” He stared at the white table top for a long moment. “No, Mike. No, I don’t want it reported?”

“Even for the verbal abuse he’s been throwing at you?” Mike persisted.

Chet merely shook his head, the memory of his own rescue by his brothers fresh on his mind. “Nu-uh, no way…. Please?”

Mike slapped the young man on the back. “Well,” he glanced back at Hank briefly. “Let’s not tell him that just yet, ok?”

For a moment, Chet was confused. Then understanding crept onto his bruised face. “Ohhh, I get it,” he said with a smile, wincing as the gesture shot pain upwards from his jaw. “Do ya think this might be what happened to Mrs. Stanley?”

“I’m starting to think so.” Mike stood up, hearing the distant wails of the Mayfair ambulance. “Up until now, I wasn’t sure but… It makes sense,” he said as he headed out the door to direct the ambulance crew.

On the floor, Roy was again checking Hank’s vitals. “152/88. Still elevated. Brackett’s ordered an IV, gonna be a big stick, Cap.” 

John relayed the information to Rampart on the latest vitals. “…and the ambulance is here now.”

“Transport as soon as possible.”

“10-4,” he said, hanging up the telephone.

“Hey fellas, we’ve been stood down until shift change, so why don’t you follow in your personal vehicle instead of the squad. No rush to get back but, um, let us know how he’s doing, ok?” Mike directed.

“We’ll come over as soon as we get relieved, and we’ll make sure we get his vehicle there too,” Marco piped up, just as the gurney was brought in.

The men quickly loaded up their captain, noting that his expression remained stoic and cold. He was angry, and they knew it.

“I’ll ride in with him, Johnny.”

“A’right, I’ll, uh, I’ll follow in the rover then I’ll bring ya back here to pick up your car,” he said, following behind his partner with the IV bag held high.

As soon as they were loaded, Johnny gave the customary two slaps, and watched the ambulance pull away. He turned to his shift mates whose faces looked as weary as his own. “So, do we call Mrs. Stanley or what?”

Mike shuffled his feet slightly. “I think I’ll go over there as soon as Captain Walters gets here. I don’t want to tell her this on the phone, and that way I can drive her to the hospital.”

“Yea, I know what you mean. Listen, I better head on over to Rampart. I’ll call you guys as soon as we know something,” Johnny said, seriousness resounding in his voice.

“Thanks, John,” Marco said for the group as they turned making their way back into the kitchen. They knew that it was likely going to be a long wait, but no one was going to get any more sleep during this shift.

“C’mon, fellas. I’ll get us some coffee started,” Mike said leading what was left of his crew as they gathered around the kitchen table.

E!

“Almost there, Cap. How do you feel?” Roy ask, wondering if the rocking motion of the ambulance was increasing his nausea.

“Betrayed. How’d you think I’d feel?” The older man tried to swallow but his mouth was sticky and dry. He kept his eyes closed not wanting to look at his paramedic. He was angry that his engineer had snooped through his locker, but he was furious that his physician, the man with whom he’d entrusted his life, had released confidential information about him to his paramedics. His head was still throbbing, and when the ambulance made the quick turn into the emergency entrance of Rampart, he thought the movement was going to cause him to vomit, yet again. 

“Ugh,” he groaned.

“Feeling sick again?” Roy asked reaching for a bag.

Hank managed to swallow a couple of times, forcing his body to maintain what little control he had left. He felt the ambulance backing up then stop. Suddenly, the doors were thrown open, and the gurney on which he lay was rushed inside the corridor. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see the ceiling lights passing quickly overhead. He knew the bright light would only increase the pounding he was already feeling inside his head, and probably induce another wave of nausea. 

“Treatment room 3,” he heard a female voice say, and felt the sharp right turn.

“Any changes, Roy?” Dr. Brackett asked as he watched his patient being transferred to the examination table.

Roy motioned for the physician to step away from their patient for a moment. “He’s really mad right now, Doc. He knows we went through his bag, and found his medication but I think he’s also pretty pissed off at you too.”

“What’d I do?” Dr. Brackett asked with sincerity.

“You mentioned the Temazapam,” Roy stated softly.

“Hummph, well, I believe this is who you and Johnny were talking about earlier. Am I right?” His azure eyes had never looked more serious.

“Yes, it was him,” Roy said, nodding toward the exam table.

“Then confidentiality goes out the window when someone’s life is on the line. I’ll handle Hank… Don’t you worry.” 

Roy felt his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. “Ok.”

“Give me a hand getting him out of these clothes and into a gown. I’ll be taking care of Captain Stanley myself.” Dr. Brackett turned around to examine his patient while Roy began removing his captain’s bunker pants and boots. 

Hank felt his clothing being removed, his body feeling just as exposed as his soul. If he had the energy, he would have resisted the efforts, but he knew he was too weak to stop the hands that worked quickly and efficiently to separate him from the last reminders of the career he knew was lost. As his boxers were removed, he tried to preserve what little dignity he had left by using his hands to cover his nakedness, but thankfully, someone threw a warm blanket across his lower body while a cotton hospital gown was draped over his chest and tied around his neck. 

Roy cast one final glance at the man he had grown to love and respect over the last few years. The man lying before him was barely the shell of the man he had once been. Roy lay a shaky hand on Hank’s shoulder. “I hope you, uh… Hope you feel better soon, Cap.” He felt as if he’d been punched in the face like Chet as he watched Hank deliberately turn his face away from him, silence echoing in the exam room. 

Roy looked over at his medical director, pulling a thumb over his shoulder indicating he would be waiting in the staff lounge. He waited for Dr. Brackett to acknowledge with a slight nod then made his way out of the room. He knew Johnny would be there shortly, and they needed to talk.

E!

Dr. Brackett pulled his stethoscope from his pocket, and began listening to his patient’s heart. He expected some type of reaction from Hank, but his lack of response caused the physician’s mouth to twitch. “Hank…Hank, can you open your eyes for me?”

“I can… Not gonna,” came the raspy reply.

Once again, Dr. Brackett felt the corners of his mouth tugging uncontrollably. “I see. Carol?” He turned to his nurse. “I want the works… CBC, CMP, urinalysis…,” he continued to spout off his orders as he watched Hank’s flat expression.

His patient’s face was pale with creases along his forehead and around his mouth. Dr. Brackett continued his examination hoping Hank would become more cooperative. “Alright, roll onto your right side a little, and let me listen to your lungs.” 

Hank remained still, ignoring the request.

“C’mon, Hank. I need to check your lungs since he had some smoke inhalation. Now, roll over just a bit for me, please?” He waited for his nurse to complete her task of drawing blood. “Get that to the lab stat and, uh… Send Roy back in here…”

“No.”

The two medical personnel looked over at their patient.

“What was that?” Dr. Brackett questioned.

“I don’t want him in here, Doc.” Hank’s voice was husky, but commanding.

Dr. Brackett nodded to his nurse, releasing her to continue with her assignment of taking the specimens to the lab. As soon as she was out the door, he turned back to the man on the examination table. “Alright… I’ll keep Roy out… For now, but either you talk to me or I’m gonna go have a conversation with him and the rest of your crew. We’re alone in here now, so the choice is yours. What do you want me to do?”

“Kiss my ass, Doc. That’s what I want you to do… Kiss. My. Ass!”

E!


	20. chapter 20

Hank’s Haunting – 20

“I see,” Dr. Brackett mused. 

He stared at his patient, trying to decide on his next course of action. He checked the flow on the IV, making sure Hank was getting fluids back in his system as quickly as possible, hoping his dehydration was the cause of his nausea rather than something more serious. He took an updated set of vitals, hoping that the prescribed medications were having the desired effect on his elevated blood pressure. By taking his time, and not asking any direct questions, he hoped that his patient would begin to discuss his situation; it was obvious he wasn’t going to be forced into talking.   
“Beta blocker seems to be working,” Dr. Brackett spoke softly, hoping his calm demeanor might reduce the stress level of his patient. Folding up the blood pressure cuff, he placed it back in the drawer. He got no response from the man lying on the exam table, but did notice him shiver. “Just try to relax, Hank. I’ll get you another warm blanket.” 

When he opened the door, his nurse was just returning. “Get him a couple of blankets, please. He’s cold. And, uh, stay with him while I talk to Roy. I want vitals every 5 minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll be in the lounge if you need me,” he said, his face serious as he looked back at his patient before turning his attention toward the smell of fresh coffee.

E!

Johnny shifted his rover into park, killed the engine, and walked quickly into the emergency department. A pretty nurse returning from the lab recognized him.

“Hello, John. If you’re looking for Roy, I saw him in the lounge.”

“Thanks,” he said with a brief head nod. A strong cup of coffee would be extremely helpful for his waning level of alertness. Pushing open the door, he walked in, seeing his partner on the telephone.

“Yea, thanks, Mike. See ya.” Roy hung up the phone, a bit disappointed that the person joining him was his partner rather than Dr. Brackett.

“How’s he doin’?” Johnny asked worriedly.

Roy simply shook his head, pulling out a chair and taking a seat at the table. He wrapped his fingers around the opposite fist, and rested his chin on them, blue eyes staring at the vacant air in front of him. “Not good, Johnny. I’ve never seen him like this.”

“Coffee?”

Roy focused his eyes in the direction where Johnny was standing near the coffee pot. He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the table. “Uh, yea… Yea, that’d be good.”

Johnny filled two mugs, then took a seat beside his somewhat dazed partner. He studied him for a moment before he spoke. “Roy? Spill it, partner. What aren’t ya tellin’ me?”

“He’s… He’s just not Cap, ya know?” Roy reached for his mug without bringing it to his lips. “I called the station. Mike’s gonna go get Rebecca as soon as Captain Walters gets there, and Marco’s gonna bring the bottles of pills by when he and Chet come over.”

“Good idea. So Doc think’s it’s got somethin’ to do with the pills?”

Roy looked back down picking up the hot cup, swirling the dark liquid. “I dunno. He hasn’t talked to me, yet. He’s still with Cap, I guess.”

“Hmmm,” Johnny mumbled, swallowing his first sip of coffee.

Roy set his cup down, once again without taking a sip. “He’s really pissed, Johnny. You should’ve heard him earlier.”

“Oh? What’d he say?” Johnny leaned back in his seat, elbow propped on the back of his chair as he turned to his partner.

Roy looked seriously into Johnny’s deep brown eyes. “I asked him how he was feeling and…,” Roy finally brought the cup to his mouth, staring at John over the rim. “And he said he was feeling betrayed.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “I felt like he kicked me in the stomach, John.” Roy’s voice was a gravelly whisper. “Di-did we betray, Cap?”

“No!” Johnny said, his voice firm and unwavering. “No, we did NOT betray him. We did what we had to do to help him.”

Roy watched his partner’s animated features, his eyes following the younger man’s flailing hands.

“It was the only way, Roy. The only way to know what the hell’s been goin’ on with ‘im, and you know it!” He pointed two fingers at his partner’s chest. “Now, stop the guilt trip. He’s gonna be ok. Just wait and see,” Johnny’s eyes drifted out the window, his voice fading. “He has to be…”

“I don’t know. You weren’t in the back of that ambulance with him,” Roy said with an edge to his voice.

“No… No, you’re right.” Johnny leaned forward again, elbows on the table, and spoke in a hushed tone. “But at least he wasn’t riding in the back of a hearse. He’s in a treatment room – not the morgue.”

Roy nodded his head slightly. 

“I can live with him bein’ pissed off. Hell, happens to me and Chet all the time. But I CAN’T live with the guilt of NOT steppin’ in when we knew we needed to. What we did was right. I know in your heart you believe that.” He leaned back slowly. “In time, Cap will too.”

Both men looked up as the lounge door opened.

“I see you fellas aren’t having any better morning than I’m having, are you?” Dr. Brackett walked over to the coffee pot hoping he might finish this particular cup, unlike his previous two.

“How’s he doin’, Doc?” Johnny inquired.

Dr. Brackett took a seat at the table, joining his two concerned paramedics. He tilted his head, casting a steely blue gaze at them both. “Well, physically speaking, he’s improving. He’s on a beta blocker now, which is lowering his blood pressure, and he’s getting rehydrated.”

Roy grimaced, unsure what was coming next. “But?” He asked, waiting for his medical director to swallow his coffee.

“But, he still seems a bit nauseated. I’m waiting to see if the extra fluid helps. If not, then I’ll give him something for that, as well, and do some testing for the cause.”

“Something else is wrong, though, Doc. This isn’t the Cap’n Stanley we all know.” Johnny was feeling frustrated, running a hand through his mussed up hair. “What happened to him? You know more than you’re tellin’ us, don’t you?”

Dr. Brackett felt the left corner of his mouth twitch at his paramedic’s question. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. However, you know I can’t discuss it with you. You aren’t his next of kin. Believe me, I wish I could,” he said, running a finger down the curve of his cup, his eyes staring but unseeing. “It’s doctor/patient privilege, simple as that.”

“Ah, c’mon, Doc!” Johnny slammed his hand down hard onto the table, spilling some of the coffee in Roy’s nearly full cup. “Uh, s-sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbled, jumping up to retrieve a paper towel.

“Johnny, I know how frustrated you feel. I feel it too, but we…,”

“I know, I know… Can’t discuss it,” Johnny said with a wave of his hand. “Well, maybe if we all talk about it, then we can connect the dots, ya know? I bet we… All of us, have seen or heard somethin’…. Bits and pieces to this puzzle that none of us can put together alone!” His long arms were flinging wildly around him like a large bird trying to land on a narrow limb.

Kel looked up, hope brightening his eyes. “Roy? You said Marco’s coming over, to bring those pills, right?”

“Yea.”

“See if you can get the others here, including Mrs. Stanley. You might just be on to something, Johnny,” he said, slapping the younger man on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go back and check on my patient.”

Roy watched the physician leave, then turned to his stunned partner. 

“Whu-what’d I say?” Johnny asked, perplexed.

“We’ll discuss it over breakfast, Junior. C’mon, let’s go to the cafeteria. By the time we get back, Joanne will be up, and I can let her know I’m gonna be late.”

E!

Joanne awoke to the sound of the alarm clock buzzing near her head. She sat up in bed feeling a renewed energy she hadn’t felt in a long time. She threw on her robe, and hurried down the hallway, knocking on the bedroom doors of her sleeping children on her way. “Wake up, kids. I’m starting breakfast,” she called out.  
She heard a couple of sleepy groans responding to her, and a smile crossed her face. She couldn’t wait to start her new job at the flower shop. She bounded down the stairs, and pulled open the cabinets preparing to make the pancake batter. Then a shadow crossed her features as she opened the refrigerator door to remove the milk. She was afraid that Roy wouldn’t be very happy with her plan, but the decision had already been made. She had accepted the job. By the time he arrived home off shift, she would be ready to leave. She knew it was a cowardly way of handling the situation, but if he’d had a rough night then he might get upset. If she told him just as she was leaving, then he’d have time to accept it, and cool off before she got home. Besides, she’d make him pancakes and bacon, so he really shouldn’t complain.

Half an hour later, the children were sitting at the table eating while Joanne fixed herself a plate. “Kids, I’ve got some news for you. I’ve got a job at Bloomers, the flower shop, and I start today,” she announced proudly.

“Why? You’ve got a job here,” Chris spoke up.

“Of course, darling,” she said, caressing his blonde hair. “But, when I work at Bloomers then I can make money. I don’t make any money working here.”

“Did Daddy lose his job?” Jennifer asked, concern lifting her eyebrows over her pale blue eyes.

“No, of course he didn’t. This will just give us more money,” she explained.

“Does this mean we’re poor?”

“Christopher! We’re not poor, but we certainly don’t have much money to spare. Your daddy works very hard saving lives and houses, but his job doesn’t pay a lot of money. This will help us have a few extra things.” She was not getting the reaction she had been anticipating. “Aren’t you happy?”

“But who’s gonna take care of us?” Jennifer asked, her pouty lower lip protruding.

“I am, silly girl. It’s just while you two are at school. You won’t even know that I’m not here,” she said, wiping a bit of syrup from her daughter’s chin. “Now, finish up before the bus runs. Don’t want to be late for school.”

Joanne watched as her two children did as they were told. They were the product of the love she and Roy had shared, each carrying a bit of their parents in their looks and personality. She watched longingly as they talked to each other in hushed whispers making their way back up the stairs to brush their teeth, and something heavy settled into her stomach. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was making a mistake.

E!

“Good morning, Dixie,” Marco said, as he and Chet stepped up to the nurse’s station. “Is Dr. Brackett around?”

“Well, good morning to you, too,” she replied, blue eyes shining as she smiled a knowing smile. “He’s getting your captain ready to move upstairs. We’re gonna keep him a few days. I understand you brought something for us?”

“How is he?” Chet questioned, watching the exchange of medication bottles between his partner and the pretty emergency room nurse.

“He’s resting. Kel wants to meet with you guys to discuss a few things. Can you stick around a few minutes?” She asked, pocketing the bottles.

“Yes ma’am,” Marco piped up, unable to say no to those long eye lashes, even if he had wanted to leave. “We’ll wait, right Chet?”

“Yea, hey, where’s Johnny and Roy?”

“They’re in the staff lounge. Go ahead,” she nodded her head to the left, feeling dark eyes following her as she stepped around the counter and into treatment room three.

“Watch where you’re goin’, Marco. The lounge is this way,” Chet admonished, tugging on his partner’s sleeve.

“View’s better that way,” Marco explained, jerking a thumb over his shoulder as they shuffled down the corridor, away from the nurse’s retreating form.

Inside the lounge, Roy was once again hanging up the phone with a bit of a slam. “Guess she had errands,” he mumbled to himself.

Chet entered the lounge, still pulling on his partner’s sleeve. “Can’t keep his eyes off Dixie,” he said, explaining to the other men in the room why his partner’s neck was stretched looking down the hallway.

“Who can?” Johnny quipped back with a snicker.

E!

Mike turned his pick-up into the Stanley’s driveway, slamming the door as he got out. His gut tightened as he quickly rang the doorbell, certain that the sight of him was going to alarm Mrs. Stanley. He listened carefully, hearing some movement inside the residence. He knew it had to be her as he’d seen the bus pulling away from the bus stop when he turned onto their street. That meant the girls were already on their way to school. He waited another moment, sticking his hands nervously into his front pockets. Finally, he heard the door creaking open, and looked into the battered face of Rebecca Stanley.

“M-Mike? Oh no! What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“He’s ok, Mrs. Stanley. He just got sick at work earlier and went to Rampart. I’m sure he’s fine,” he spat out rapidly. “I just wanted to, uh, to come by and pick you up myself.”

Rebecca felt her legs going weak, and thought for a moment that she might collapse. Was Mike telling her the truth? Her hand covered her mouth as her eyes began welling up with unshed tears. “Please, co-come in. I’ll, I’ll get my purse,” she said, stumbling backwards slightly.

Mike quickly put his arm around her, and eased her to a seat in the living room. He knew she was startled and afraid for her husband. “Rebecca? Listen to me. If he’d been hurt or, uh, worse, then the chief would be here – not me. I promise, he just got sick a little while ago and we made him go to Rampart. Trust me, he really didn’t want to go,” Mike said, a hint of a smile twinkling in his blue eyes. “He can be stubborn, you know?”

Rebecca relaxed a bit as she regained her bearings. Mike was right, and she knew it. She had been a firefighter’s wife long enough to know how the horrible task was carried out, but ever since the death of Kyle Carrigan, she had been even more concerned for her husband. “Thank you, I’m… I’m feeling better now. You just, ah, you surprised me, that’s all.”

“I know, ma’am, and I’m sorry to have upset you. I really didn’t want to tell you on the phone and, well, I figured you might need someone to drive you over there. So, I’m here in person,” he said, patting her forearm.

“Ok, let me just get my purse and I’ll be ready to go,” she said, inhaling deeply.

“Where is it? I’ll get it for you.” Mike offered.

“It’s on the kitchen table.”

Mike quickly walked into the adjoining room, retrieving the beige handbag. “Here you go,” he said, handing it to her, then offering her his arm for support.  
Carefully, he helped her down the steps, and into his truck for the drive to Rampart. He had known that her face was bruised, but he was surprised by the discoloration of her injuries. Because they were now several days old, they were dark purple, green, and yellow, gravity elongating them towards her collarbone. Even though she had attempted to cover them with make-up, they were still quite visible. He thought back to his earlier conversation with Chet, and the bruise forming on the young lineman’s face, noting the similarities. He thought carefully before he spoke, but he figured now that they were alone, he could probe a little.

“He, ah, he was having a nightmare, Rebecca. It must’ve been a real doozy too, because when Chet tried to wake him up, he, um… Cap nailed him.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her pulling a tissue out of her purse. She dabbed it at the corners of her eyes before she spoke. “A ni-nightmare, you said?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m not sure, but it seemed kind of like he was giving orders at a fire or something. I dunno, but then afterwards, he started throwing up. We thought he needed to see a doctor.” Mike continued giving out information, hoping she might share something herself. 

“I’m glad you fellas made him get checked out,” she said, wiping her nose.

They were nearing Rampart so Mike pushed on a little more. “I know it’s none of my business but… But has anything like this happened before? At home?” He turned on his blinker as they made the turn into Rampart’s emergency entrance. As he neared the glass doors, he heard a faint whisper.

“Y-yes.”

E!

“How’s the nausea, Hank?” Dr. Brackett questioned.

“Still there – easing a bit,” the fire captain said. He offered nothing more, but at least he was no longer hostile.

“I’m glad,” the physician patted his patient on the shoulder. “If it isn’t better after this bag runs out then I’ll give you something for it. I’m going to move you up to a room. We’ll try to let you get some rest, and keep a check on your blood pressure.”

“It’s, uh, is it going down?”

Dr. Brackett’s blue eyes peered down at Hank. This was the first unsolicited sentence the man had spoken since he had arrived. “Yes, it’s still elevated but it’s moving in the right direction. I’d like to keep you here until it gets back to normal.” He waited for the arguing to begin, but it never came. 

“Doc, my wife. She’ll be,” he gulped. “Worried.” He screwed his eyes up even tighter, fighting to hold back his tears as the memories of all that had happened pushed forward in his mind.

“Listen to me, Hank Stanley. You’ve got an amazing crew; you’ve trained them well. Now, from what I’ve been told, Mike is picking up Rebecca and bringing her over here. She isn’t going to get a phone call to upset her.”

Again, Hank gulped, turning his head even farther away from the deep voice of his physician. Hearing how his engineer was taking care of his wife felt like a knife plunging into the fire captain’s heart. He remembered every hateful foul word he’d spouted off to Mike – to everyone – and yet the young engineer was taking care of his wife. The others had taken care of him, getting him treated at the station and transported to the hospital. His heart was breaking at the memory of all he had done over the last month. Now, here he lay in a cold hospital treatment room. He feared for his marriage and children. He ached for his lost career. He knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he’d lost the best group of friends he’d ever had in his life. He was probably going to be facing assault charges. How would he support his family? How could he make a life out of the ruins he was now wallowing in? He felt a soothing hand resting on his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes – to face the physician he’d been so disrespectful to earlier. 

“Hank,” Dr. Brackett crooned, seeing his patient shuddering. “Hank, it’s going to be alright. We’re going to figure this thing out, get you well and back out there soon.”

The broken man struggled to find his voice. He swallowed a few times, trying to clear his throat. “No,” he whispered. “Too late. Just… Just leave me alone, pl-please?” He begged, hoarsely.

“Kel?”

The physician turned at the sound of Dixie’s voice. “They’re here,” Dixie said, nodding towards the staff lounge as she stood in the doorway.

“Thanks, Dix.” He looked back down at his mournful patient. “Do you need anything?”

Hank merely shook his head.

“Alright, Dixie will take care of getting you settled upstairs, and then I’ll be in to check on you in just a little while,” he said, giving Hank one final pat on the shoulder. 

He stepped closer to his nursing director, accepting the pill bottles she handed him. “Have someone stay with him, Dix. I don’t want him left alone for a single minute.”

“Yes, Kel,” she said softly, her face downcast. 

E!

“Mrs. Stanley? Are you feeling ok?” Dr. Harrison asked, recognizing the woman who stood waiting just inside the glass doors of the emergency room.

Rebecca looked up at the young red-haired doctor who had treated her when she was brought to Rampart the last time. “Oh, uh, Dr. Harrison. How are you?”

“Well, I’m great. But most people don’t come to the ER when things are going well. Is there something I can help you with?” The young man asked, his cheerful voice masking the concern he felt.

“Oh, no, Mike is just parking his truck. My, um, my husband is sick and Mike, his engineer, brought me here to see him,” she said, thankful that the man of whom she spoke walked through the door at that moment.

“I see, well, I hope he feels better soon, and let me know if I can help you,” Dr. Harrison said, smiling as Mike led Rebecca down the hallway. He saw no new bruising, and wondered again if his suspicions had been correct. Was he watching a battered woman walking down the hallway to check on her abuser? If she was here checking on him, then she certainly wasn’t ready to leave him. He blew out his cheeks in exasperation, deciding to find out who Mr. Stanley’s attending physician was so that they could discuss the situation. Maybe together, they could help her.

E!

Kelly Brackett leaned against the nurse’s station, reading the information on the bottles and counting out the pills, just as Mike and Mrs. Stanley made the right turn walking down the corridor. He hesitated, making sure they saw him, then waved them over. He stepped ahead of them, holding the staff lounge door open for them. Allowing them to enter first, he finally stepped inside to face a dejected A-shift, minus their leader. He watched as all eyes stared at the three of them walking into the room, and he smiled as all four men quickly jumped out of their seats offering Rebecca a place to sit down. They really did know how to take care of each other, including the families of their fellow firefighters. 

“Alright, first of all, Mrs. Stanley, I’m glad you could make it here so early, and I’m sorry that it’s because your husband isn’t feeling well,” he acknowledged, offering her his kindest voice. He looked up at the men gathered closely around, and hated what he had to say next. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us, I need to discuss things with Mrs. Stanley first, then I’ll bring you all back in so that we can compare notes, so to speak and…,” his voice faded as he felt a tugging on his white coat sleeve.

“No, no Dr. Brackett. That won’t be necessary. Whatever you have to say,” she swallowed, inhaling deeply. “You can say it in front of these boys. They’re family.”

Johnny cleared his throat, a part of him wanting to tell the good doctor, ‘I told ya so.’ Instead, he looked around noting that no one else had made a move to leave. Mike took a seat on the sofa nearest Rebecca, placing his arm around her supportively. 

“We’ll stay if you’re sure. We don’t want to intrude on your privacy or his either,” Mike said, softly.

“I want….. I mean, I need you here,” she said looking up, tears streaming down her face. “I-I’ve tried to han-handle this alone and…,” she hiccupped, clutching her worn tissue to her mouth.

“Sshhh,” Mike crooned, pulling her into a sideways embrace, giving her a shoulder to cry on. “He’s gonna be ok.”

“Very well, if you’re sure, Mrs. Stanley?” Dr. Brackett waited for her affirmative nod before he continued. 

“Hank’s blood pressure is still very elevated, although it’s beginning to decline after I started him on a beta blocker. That slows down the heart and lowers blood pressure. He’s dehydrated which I’m hoping may be the cause of his nausea but I can’t be certain until his fluid levels are back to normal. If he’s still vomiting then, I’ll look for other causes, and give him something to stop it.” He looked around the room noting the worry and concern on the face of each man in Hank’s crew. “My primary concern is the fact that he hasn’t been sleeping well, even with the Tamazepam… And he’s been mixing it with strong caffeine pills… And maybe other substances too; I just can’t be sure.” He removed the pill bottles from his coat pocket. “200 mg each, and he’s had at least two today.”

Rebecca sat back up, swiping the tissue beneath her eyes. “W-wait a minute. Hank isn’t on any medication. At least, not that I know of.”

Dr. Brackett handed her the prescription bottle of Temazepam. “I wrote that prescription nearly a month ago. He came to me because he was having trouble sleeping after a bad run. I reluctantly agreed, but only under the condition that he see a psychiatrist I had recommended; one who is very knowledgeable in handling situations like Hank’s. He’s done a lot of work with soldiers returning from Vietnam and Korea; especially those who felt responsible for the deaths of fellow serviceman, and those under their command.”

“Yea, well I hate to tell ya this, Doc, but your guy doesn’t seem to be helpin’ Cap. He’s just been gettin’ worse and worse.”

“I know that now, Johnny,” Dr. Brackett said, then turned his attention back to Mrs. Stanley. “But it isn’t Dr. Robertson’s fault. Hank never made the appointment.”

“He-he never told me, Dr. Brackett. I-I would’ve encouraged him to go, or I’d’ve even gone with him but… He never mentioned it….,” her voice muffled as she once again turned her face into Mike’s chest. 

Dr. Brackett looked around the room, his mouth twitching in anticipation of his next question. “Mrs. Stanley? Fellas? I need to ask you some very personal questions. I hope you’ll answer them honestly.”

A chorus of affirmative responses floated around the room, all of them male. Dr. Brackett turned to Rebecca, placing a hand on her shuddering shoulder.

Rebecca sniffled, then picked her head up casting red-rimmed eyes at the dark haired physician. “Yes… Yes, for Hank’s sake, I’ll tell you anything you need to know.”

E!


	21. chapter 21

A/N: Thank you to everyone who is reading and especially those who leave reviews and PM’s. You questions, comments, and corrections definitely make this story a better read. Also, thank you to my proof-reader. 

Hank’s Haunting – 21

Dr. Brackett looked around the room at the men from 51’s, but his eyes settled on the bruised woman sitting directly in front of him. “Mrs. Stanley, has his behavior, his demeanor, changed since the loss of the firefighter under his command? Has your relationship changed recently?” He was trying to simply get her talking more than asking for specifics. He wanted to see where she would take the conversation.

 

Rebecca thought a moment before answering. She knew of one definite change and felt the warmth of a blush rising around her neck. “He’s not really himself anymore. He’s easily frustrated, and just seems unhappy.” Rebecca looked into her lap, her mind sending her back in time to that horrible event. She felt Mike pull her tighter, realizing then just how badly she was shaking. She looked up into the stern, but caring eyes of Dr. Brackett. “Yes, our relationship has, uh, changed since that…,” was all she could manage to utter, feeling her throat constricting. She coughed slightly to clear it, embarrassment coloring her cheeks for what she was about to say, but she knew that it might be important. “Dr. Brackett, we haven’t, um, been intimate since before it happened.”

 

The physician’s blue eyes searched the reddening face of the woman sitting before him, knowing how difficult it must have been for her to say that in front of Hank’s crew. He needed more details in order to continue his assessment, and so he pressed on. “Has he lost interest in sex, or does it seem to be more of a physical issue?”

 

“No interest in me, I guess. We, ah, we haven’t even tried,” she said, dropping her chin even further, and rubbing her forehead with her fingers. This was not a discussion she wanted to have with so many young men present, but she knew by Dr. Brackett’s reaction that it was important. She also knew that having Hank's crew here with her, supporting her during this difficult time, far outweighed any potential embarrassment the revelation might cause.

 

“All of you,” the physician began, looking around the room. “I need to know details about your relationship with Hank recently, and how you've seen his behavior change. Even the tiniest bit of information that you think isn’t important could hold the key.”

 

“He seems really stressed, and he’s drinking pots of coffee,” Marco said, starting the conversation for the group, relieving Rebecca for a moment. “He seems like he’s going to explode in a fit of rage any minute.”

 

Dr. Brackett nodded at Marco’s description. He then turned to the rest of the group. “What else have you noticed?” Dr. Brackett pushed forward, not wanting to put any words into their mouths. His suspicions were only that - suspicions.

 

“He’s, ahem, distant…” Rebecca looked away, staring at the wall. “H-he blames himself for what happened that night.”

 

“Ugh,” Chet groaned, knowing exactly how that felt. He watched as Rebecca’s chin began to quiver, and quickly passed her a napkin.

 

“Thank you,” she quietly whispered, wiping her eyes and nose. “Doctor, he stopped eating right, and then… Then the nightmares...”

 

The ears of the men perked up; especially Marco’s and Roy’s. They locked eyes, each reading the mind of the other. Was this what had happened to her face? Did their captain hurt her during a nightmare just like what he had done to Chet a little while ago?

 

Chet, as so often happened, allowed his mouth to shift into gear prior to his brain cranking up. “Did he hit you during a nightmare, too?”

 

If looks could kill, Chester B. Kelly would have died in that lounge only seconds after those words left his lips.

 

“Chet, damn it,” Johnny mumbled through gritted teeth, not wanting Mrs. Stanley to hear him swear, yet feeling the need to admonish the Irishman.

 

“Ow!” Chet yelped, as Marco’s elbow connected with his ribs. “I was just askin’?”

 

Mike heard the sharp intake of breath from Mrs. Stanley, and knew that Chet’s insensitive remark had upset her. He tried to soothe the crying woman who leaned her face into his chest, heaving sobs racking her slim frame. 

 

Dr. Brackett wasn’t happy with the less than tactful phrase the lineman had uttered, but he wasn’t seriously upset by it, either. Chet had broken the proverbial ice by getting right to the point. He knew the other men in the room would take care of their big-mouthed lineman, so he focused his efforts on the weeping woman. He reached out, gripping her hand in his; a move he rarely ever used with the family of a patient. But, Hank Stanley wasn’t just a patient; he was a friend. He instinctively knew that Rebecca needed more than mere words at the moment, and wanted to assist Mike in encouraging her to continue the conversation. 

 

Chet realized, albeit too late, that the wording he had used to phrase his question had upset her. He saw and heard her weeping, and his own guilt-ridden heart started breaking. “Ah, geez, I-I’m really sorry, Mrs. Cap. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I just, I mean, I thought maybe…”

 

Rebecca sniffled, turning her tear-streaked face in the direction of the stuttering young man. “No, it- it’s ok, Chet. It’s just that… Roy, Marco, did you think that Hank had…,” she cleared her throat, struggling to ask her question. “Had hit me… The night you brought him home drunk?” 

 

Roy and Marco exchanged worried glances, shifting their positions in their discomfort. Neither one wanted to answer her question. Dr. Brackett logged the comment about excessive drinking away for the moment, wanting to obtain as much information as he could while the group was talking freely.

 

“I was afraid you didn’t believe me. It’s ok,” she continued, returning her gaze to her lap. “I-I’m sorry I lied to you that night.” She returned her eyes to Dr. Brackett who was still gently holding her hand, then quickly gave Chet a reassuring glance. “Yes, Chet,” she said, feeling a little stronger. “Yes, he did hit me with his elbow when he was thrashing around, calling out for Kyle,” she paused, searching her soul for the strength to continue.

 

“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Stanley,” Dr. Brackett consoled.

 

“Then, when I tried to wake him up, he just…,” she sucked in a ragged breath. “He opened his eyes but, he didn’t see me. H-he grabbed my arms and threw me off the bed. My face slammed into the door facing of our bathroom, cutting my lip. He didn’t wake up until he fell out of bed himself, still struggling with whatever he was fighting in his dream, and he slammed his arm on the nightstand, breaking the lamp.” She took a moment to blow her nose, her tears streaming down her face. “When he saw me, bleeding on the floor, h-he was so upset.” She looked back up at the men in the room. “With God as my witness, my husband has never, ever hit me, intentionally. Please, please believe me, you've gotta be-lieve m-me...,” she crumbled again into Mike’s strong embrace. She couldn’t allow Hank’s men to think of him as a batterer.

 

“I’m so sorry, Rebecca,” Mike whispered. He heard shuffling footsteps, and looked up to see Roy and Marco kneeling down on either side of her.

 

“Mrs. Stanley?” Roy spoke softly. “I’m very sorry that the thought ever crossed my mind. I know now what happened, we both do,” he said, quickly looking at Marco for a nod of approval before continuing. “And we’re sorry that we suspected differently.”

 

“Mostly,” Marco whispered. “Mostly sorry that you didn’t feel comfortable telling us what was really happening. I don’t know what we could’ve done but, but we would’ve tried to help, somehow.”

 

Kelly Brackett quietly backed out of the circle of firemen now surrounding Rebecca Stanley. He listened intently to the conversation, making mental notes as the people who had been silently watching his patient self-destruct, began to share their recent experiences with each other. His answer could be found in their statements; he was sure of it. He just needed to pay attention to everything being said, in order to find it.

 

“It’s ok, Marco, really… I was just so, I don’t know, ashamed to tell anyone, I guess. I wish I had now,” she said, drying her eyes again. She was beginning to feel an unseen weight lifting off her shoulders.

 

“What about the girls?”

 

“No, Roy, they don’t even… Well, that isn’t entirely true. Missy thought he’d hit me, too but… I did explain it to her. I don’t think Victoria suspects anything, although, she does know that her Dad is grumpy all the time.”

 

“The kitchen fire, was that…?” Johnny began asking the question, but was interrupted.

 

“No, no, that happened just the way we said. He shoved me out of the way before my clothes caught fire, and I fell into the corner of the table. He was just trying to protect me, and put the fire out. That’s all,” she adamantly defended.

 

Chet sensed that Rebecca needed an emotional break, and he picked up the conversation. “His eyes were open but, I swear, he was looking through me when he hit me,” Chet mused, remembering the wild-eyed look of his captain as his balled up fist punched the young lineman in the jaw. “He’s been really pissed off at me since my foot injury though, so I kinda hate he won’t remember it,” he chuckled nervously to himself. “He deserves to at least remember doing what I know he’s wanted to do for a long time.”

 

“You aren’t the only one he’s been mad at, Chet. He’s been a smart ass to me for weeks…,” Mike gulped, his uncharacteristic swear had slipped out in front of Rebecca. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

 

“It’s alright, I understand. He really has been a bear, hasn’t he?”

 

“You can say that again,” Johnny piped in. "He's… Well, he doesn't do things with us anymore, either. He rarely eats his meals with us, and he never watches television with us anymore, not even a movie. He even turns us down when we ask him to play card games, or shoot some hoops."

 

“He hasn’t been sleeping at all at the station, either. What about at home?” Mike asked.

 

“Not much but then again, I, um, I had to start sleeping in the guest room so, I-I really can’t say. But, I know for several days after the incident, he was awake when I went to bed, and awake when I got up.”

 

Mike continued with his train of thought, “he also has been feeling dizzy and has had some nausea too.”

 

“Man, I really feel like we messed up, fellas. We should’ve done somethin’ sooner,” Johnny complained to the group.

 

“No,” Dr. Brackett spoke up, reinserting himself into the conversation. “No self-recrimination here. This is good information you’re sharing, and that’s all that matters. And I know it goes without saying but... What's said in here STAYS in here. It's too private to be discussed with anyone else. Understand?" 

 

"No need to worry about that, Doc. We take care of each other; we protect each other, and not just from fires," Mike explained.

 

Dr. Brackett gave a relieved nod to the normally quiet engineer, the man who had probably spoken more in the last few minutes than the physician had heard him say in a year. Dr. Brackett continued his encouraging words, directing them to the entire group. "We can’t change the past, but we can change his future… The future for all of you.”

 

“Dr. Brackett?” Rebecca’s meek voice rose above the deeper voices of the men. “Does any of this make sense? Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

 

The tired physician thought long and hard before he answered her question. “Not entirely, no. I think it's obvious, with his lack of interest in normally enjoyable activities that he's suffering from some depression, which is to be expected in this situation. It seems that he hasn’t been taking the Temazepam as prescribed but, even so, his behavior is not what I’d expect from someone taking the drug. Mixing it with enough alcohol to get too inebriated to drive is very dangerous. Adding the caffeine pills could certainly explain his vomiting as the gastrointestinal side effects caused by high doses of caffeine include nausea and vomiting. His elevated blood pressure could be the result of the stress, lack of sleep, extra caffeine, and a dozen other things. The same goes for the dizziness,” he expounded as he glanced around, staring at the worried faces. “Still doesn’t explain why the Temazepam didn’t work though. That part is still a mystery.” He looked back at Mrs. Stanley. “You mentioned him coming home drunk; is he drinking alcohol more than normal?”

 

“Just that once when Marco and Roy brought him home from Cinders. He, he is an occasional or a social drinker, I guess you could say. He doesn’t normally drink to excess. In fact, that was the only time I’ve ever seen him drunk, Dr. Brackett, and we've been married for nearly twenty years,” she said softly. “He knows too many firemen who’ve become alcoholics from the stress, so h-he just doesn’t drink like that. I mean, Roy barely got him to the bathroom before he started throwing up that night.” The alarm in her voice was evident. "Then he basically passed out as soon as Roy and Marco got him in bed."

 

“It’s very likely that the Temazepam increased the effects of the alcohol, if he’d taken one prior to drinking. He may have consumed his usual amount, but with very different effects on his body.” He hoped he was reducing her fears of her husband’s perceived excessive imbibing.

 

“But if he isn’t taking it correctly, then could it have the same effect on his personality as the alcohol had on his body? Could it exaggerate his emotions like this?” Chet asked.

 

“I’m afraid not. It should be working to help him settle down and sleep, when he does take it. I do have him on fluids now along with a beta blocker and, surprisingly, he seems to be calming down. He isn’t telling me to, uh, kiss his ass, anymore,” he said, offering an apologetic smile to Mrs. Stanley.

 

“Cap said that to you?” Johnny questioned, a hint of his half grin making its way to his chiseled face. Truthfully, he’d wanted to tell Dr. Brackett the same thing a few times himself.

 

“Yes, he did,” Dr. Brackett responded, a faint smile quickly appearing then fading away.

 

Embarrassment colored Rebecca’s face. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Brackett, all of you,” she said, looking around at the crew. “This is so unlike him. I hate you’ve endured all of this.”

 

“It’s ok, Mrs. Cap,” Chet spoke up for the group. “We know it isn’t him. But, we want our Cap’n Stanley back just as much as you want your husband back,” he said with sincerity.

 

“And that’s exactly what I intend to do. I’m not giving up until the Hank Stanley we all know is back with us,” Dr. Brackett said, standing up and shoving his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. “Let me see if he’s in a room, and then I’ll personally escort you up, Mrs. Stanley.” His smile was genuine.

 

“Thank you, doctor,” she began, then looked around the room. “Thanks to all of you. I-I don’t know what would’ve happened if he’d been assigned to any other station back when…,” she began to weep again, her words lodging in her throat as her emotions sealed it off.

 

“Just try to regain your composure for a few minutes while I check on him, then we’ll go see him,” Dr. Brackett said pulling open the door of the staff lounge.

 

E!

 

Just as Dr. Brackett made the right turn back towards treatment room three, he saw one of his new residents reviewing a chart at the nurse’s station. He felt a bit defensive when he realized who the chart belonged to. “Is there a problem, Dr. Harrison?”

 

“Oh, no Dr. Brackett,” the nervous man replied, closing the chart quickly. “I was wondering if I might speak with you for a moment, though?”

 

“I’m afraid I’ve got a patient who needs my attention right now. Can it wait?” The older physician asked.

 

“Is Hank Stanley the patient you are going to see?” Dr. Harrison was hoping he wasn’t pushing his nose into a situation where it didn’t belong, but the memory of Mrs. Stanley lying on the exam table crying and in pain made him stiffen his spine.

 

Dr. Brackett felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. “Why do you ask?” He questioned, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“Because that’s who I need to talk to you about. I may have some information that you need to know about,” the young man stated, wanting desperately to run from the confrontation he felt was imminent, but knowing he needed to do the right thing.

 

Dr. Brackett studied his resident a little longer, sizing him up before he acquiesced. “Very well,” he began, pulling the chart from the counter. “Let’s go to my office. Dixie?”

 

“Yes, Kel?”

 

“Is Hank in a room?” He asked, watching the red haired physician make his way down the hallway.

 

“Yes, 221.”

 

Dr. Brackett looked at the staff lounge door then back at Dixie. “Would you escort Mrs. Stanley up for a visit with her husband? I’ll be up to talk with them both, shortly.” He turned to head to his office, then suddenly turned back to his emergency room nurse. "Oh, uh, stay with them until I get there, please?"

 

“Sure thing,” Dixie replied with a smile.

 

E!

 

Dr. Brackett pushed his office door closed then took a seat behind his heavy wooden desk. He felt no qualms about using his authority to intimidate the younger physician, especially since Dr. Harrison had been reading the notes in a chart of a patient he was not attending.

 

“Alright, what is it YOU want to discuss with me relating to MY patient?” Dr. Brackett couldn’t resist the emphasis he used to remind the young resident who Hank Stanley’s physician was during this hospitalization.

 

“Are you aware that I treated his wife recently for burns she sustained in a house fire?”

 

“I’m aware of her injuries,” Dr. Brackett quipped back.

 

“Well, Sally Lewis was assisting me with Mrs. Stanley and we both ….," he hesitated, shifting in his seat. "Um, we suspect that she is suffering from Battered Woman Syndrome.” Dr. Harrison breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“And what if I disagree?” Dr. Brackett crossed his arms again, leaning back in his oversized desk chair.

 

“Well, then, um, I guess...,” Dr. Harrison stumbled over his words, stunned at the reaction he was receiving.

 

Kelly Brackett, leaned forward again, intertwining his fingers atop the closed chart. He saw how nervous the younger man was becoming, but he also knew that, even though he was still green as a doctor, his instincts had been correct. Dr. Brackett couldn’t allow his personal interest or his ego hinder this young man. “Look, I can assure you that Rebecca Stanley is not a battered woman, at least, not in the way you suspect. However, I must admit that your instincts are good. You picked up on something that very few young physicians ever would, so early in their career.”

 

Dr. Harrison raised his eyebrows, unsure how to take what he was hearing from his mentor. 

 

“You’ve got good skills, Dr. Harrison. In your shoes, I’d probably assume the same thing. You’ve done well to bring your suspicions to me, and I commend you for it. However, there’s more to this story than what you’re aware of, so far.” 

 

“Ok, so you know what’s going on with her?” The nervous man asked.

 

“Yes… It’s Hank I’m not completely certain about,” he said, opening up the fire captain’s chart. “I’d like to consult with you on this case, Dr. Harrison.”

 

The younger man’s green eyes lit up brightly. “Seriously? Y-you want to consult with me?”

 

“Yes, I do. You have a keen eye for this type situation. Not to mention the fact that I’ve known this family for several years now. Maybe I’m overlooking something because of my familiarity. Here, read my notes, and then let me share with you what I just heard from those closest to my patient. Maybe you can give me some insight into what’s going on with him?”

 

“Oh, I’d be honored, Dr. Brackett,” the young man said accepting the chart and reading through the scratchy handwriting. 

When he had finished, he looked up at Dr. Brackett who was now perched on the corner of his desk. He listened intently at the details the older physician had not yet documented in the chart, and slowly the pieces began to fit together in his young mind. 

 

“Dr. Brackett, could this be a paradoxical reaction to the drug?”

 

Kelly Brackett raised both eyebrows. He looked down at the young physician whose knee was bouncing, nervously. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he grunted, sliding off the edge of his desk, walking over to the window in his office. “I have to be honest, Dr. Harrison. That really never even crossed my mind. I’ve prescribed Temazepam for so long with very few problems and… I just never considered the possibility.” He turned back around to look at the other man in the room. He could tell by the reaction on the young man’s face that he wasn’t sure if his mentor was being sarcastic or not. “Tell me, have you ever seen a paradoxical reaction to Temazepam?”

 

“Well, no sir, but… I have seen one in a kid who took a different drug, diphenhydromine, and… Kid was literally sliding down the banister of the stairs in his parents’ house. Then he’d run back up the stairs, two or three at a time, and do it again. He was acting wild and crazy just giggling and laughing. He should’ve been sleepy but it didn’t make him groggy, at all.”

 

“When did this happen?” Dr. Brackett quizzed.

 

“About fifteen years ago now,” the resident grinned. “I haven’t taken any since.”

 

“You?” Dr. Brackett snickered.

 

“Yes sir. I’d never heard the term ‘paradoxical reaction’ before then, but I’ve never forgotten it, even though I was fairly young at the time.”

 

Dr. Brackett rubbed his chin with his fingers, contemplatively. He then returned to his seat, pulling the chart back and reading his notes again. “Yes… Yes, I see it now. How did I miss it before?”

 

“Because you weren’t an unbiased observer,” he responded.

 

“I suppose you’re right. You’ll make a damn fine diagnostician one day, kid,” he grinned. “Just stay away from the Benedryl.”  
Dr. Harrison stood up to leave. “Thank you, Dr. Brackett. Thank you for believing in me enough to consult with me.”

 

“Two things I learned several years ago, primarily from a couple of Hank Stanley’s men,” he nodded his head in the direction of the lounge where those same men now waited for word on their captain. “Never use the knowledge gained from a book to override knowledge gained in the field, with real patients in real situations. And secondly, never discredit a man’s abilities based solely on his youth.” Dr. Brackett slapped the younger man on the back. “Care to make my rounds with me? I have a patient I’d like for you to meet.”

 

E!

 

“Can I get you some water or coffee, maybe?” Roy asked Rebecca.

 

“Water would be good, please.”

 

Mike gave her one final squeeze then stood up stretching his aching back. He hadn’t realized just how tense he was until Dr. Brackett left. He stepped over to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup. The other men seemed to have found a spot near the window to gather, and continue their previous discussions of their captain.

 

Roy returned with the cup of water, taking a seat beside Rebecca. He watched as she gulped down half of it, knowing how difficult the impromptu group session must have been for her. “Better?”

 

Rebecca looked at him with a smile. “Yes, much. Thank you, Roy. You fellas have been so good to me and Hank through all of this.”

 

“We’re a family. We’ll always be here for you and him too, if he’ll let us.” Roy wasn’t sure if their captain would ever have the same relationship with his crew as they had shared prior to the tragedy.

 

“You’re right. I want to tell you how much it helped me for Joanne to come visit me yesterday. And she brought me the most beautiful bouquet of flowers too,” Rebecca said, finally allowing a smile to creep along her face. “We…,” her voice faded slightly as the memory of the younger woman holding her while she cried, ran through her mind. “We had a very good visit. Tell her how much I appreciate her for doing that, please?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, seeing Johnny stepping their way. Just as Johnny got close enough to hear the conversation, Rebecca spoke the words that hit Roy emotionally just as hard as Hank's fist had hit Chet earlier.

 

“Oh, and tell her I said congratulations on her new job. I was so upset yesterday that, I'm afraid I was rude when she told me about it. I do hope she enjoys working there,” Rebecca took another drink from the cup of water, never noticing the stunned look on Roy’s face.

 

“Ma-ma’am?” He stuttered, looking up at Johnny who seemed just as perplexed by her statement.

 

“Her new job. You know, at Bloomers. The florist?” Quickly, Rebecca gasped; Roy’s surprise was unmistakable. 

 

“Um, did I say something wrong? You do know about her job, right?” Rebecca felt her insides quake and her thighs grow weak, grateful to be sitting down at the moment.

 

“Ah, no… No, I haven’t had a chance to speak to her yet today. When did she get a job?” Roy was seething inside. How could his own wife take a job outside the home, and tell Rebecca before she told him?

 

“Oh dear… Well, it was a surprise to her too, I think. She said she went to pick up the flowers for me, and the florist offered her a job, right there on the spot. I-I’m sorry, Roy. I shouldn’t have said anything until she told you but… I, uh, I assumed she had discussed it with you.” She brought a shaky hand up to her mouth just as the lounge door opened again.

 

“You ready to see that husband of yours?” Dixie asked, smiling brightly at the embarrassed woman.

 

Rebecca glanced back at her husband’s senior paramedic, knowing he was upset by what she had just said. She felt torn, unable to take back the words she had spoken, and yet feeling happy that Hank was well enough for her to visit with him. She just hoped he was beginning to return to the Hank Stanley she loved. Maybe, she hadn’t done too much damage to Roy, she thought to herself as she followed the emergency room nurse out the door.


	22. chapter 22

Warning: extreme language

Hank’s Haunting – 22

Rebecca Stanley hugged her purse a little closer to her side, feeling the stares of others as she and Dixie stepped into the elevator. “Ms. McCall?”

Dixie pushed the button for the second floor, then turned her blue eyes to the woman who seemed to be cowering in the corner of the elevator car. “Yes?”

“Is he really, um, improving?”

Dixie turned around completely, thankful they were alone inside the ascending elevator. Her warm and genuine smile crossed her face, filling it with a mixture of compassion and understanding. She pocketed her hands as she stepped to the back wall, closing the distance between herself and Mrs. Stanley.

“Yes, Rebecca, he is improving. I don’t know all the details since I haven’t read his chart or talked to Kel, but I know he’s much less agitated than when Roy brought him in, and his blood pressure is decreasing steadily. He doesn’t seem to be as nauseated, either.” 

The emergency room nurse wanted to say so much more, but since Hank was on the second floor, the doors opened before she had a chance to finish. She stepped out first, placing her hand back inside the doorway to prevent the doors from closing while Rebecca walked into the corridor. Dixie placed her arm tenderly across the other woman’s shoulder. “Let’s sit down here and chat for just a minute first, ok? Kel will be up shortly to talk with both of you, but there’s something I wanted to discuss with you first.”

E!

Roy watched as Mrs. Stanley left the room. His mouth seemed as dry as desert sand as he pondered the implications of what she had just told him. Had Joanne really taken a job at Bloomers? The sudden presence of a familiar hand on his shoulder startled him, nearly causing him to jump back in response.

“Whoa, Pally.”

Roy ran a hand across his face, hoping to remove the shock of the information as well as the sudden touch. “Sorry, Johnny… I just,” he mumbled, then turned his ruddy round face back in the direction of the staff lounge door.

“I know. I couldn’t help but overhear. You, ah… Are you angry?”

Roy thought for a moment, then released a sigh as he leaned his forearms on his knees, and stared at the cold grey floor. “Honestly, I don’t know if I am or not.” He felt the small brown couch depress beside him, and knew that Johnny had taken a seat. “She’s… I mean, she’s an adult. I don’t… I don’t own her, but… Damn it, I thought she’d at least talk to me about something this important, ya know?”

Johnny wasn’t sure what he could say to alleviate his friend’s uneasiness with the situation. “Well, the kids are in school now, so maybe she gets bored at home?”

Roy narrowed his eyes, cutting them at his bachelor partner. “Thanks a lot, Junior.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I mean…,” he hesitated, fairly certain he knew what Joanne was feeling, but not sure he could make Roy understand. “Maybe by getting a job, she feels like there’s someone counting on her.”

Roy felt his face reddening. “She HAS someone counting on her. As a matter of fact, she has THREE someones counting on her!” 

Johnny slid slightly farther away from Roy. “Ok, ok, I get it. And in case you’re still wondering, the answer is ‘yes,’ alright?”

Roy leaned back staring holes through his skinny partner. “Alright, but what’s the question?”

“The one I asked you before - are you angry?” Johnny responded, unsure what Roy’s reaction might be.

“Yea, well, this little trip inside my head has been really helpful, Dr. Freud,” Roy stated, sarcastically.

“Great, now you’re angry at me, and I didn’t even do anything!” Johnny stood up, but felt a tug on his arm that quickly brought him back to a seated position.

“Look, I’m sorry, Johnny. Really, I am. It isn’t you I’m mad at,” he mumbled, looking up to see if the other men were listening. Finding them engrossed in their own conversation, he continued in his hushed tone. “I just wish she’d’ve talked to me, that’s all.”

“What would you have told her if she had come to you first?” Johnny asked, knowing their friendship was strong enough to withstand a little probing.

“I really don’t know, Johnny. I just really don’t know,” he sighed, scrubbing a palm down his reddened face.

Johnny began to stand again, needing another cup of coffee, as well as a little distance between himself and his steaming partner. “Well, I hope you settle down a little before you get home,” he said stepping away, clutching his empty coffee cup.

E!

Dixie found a quiet corner where she and Rebecca could resume their conversation, and steered Rebecca in that direction. “Listen, I don’t want you to think that Hank is suddenly back to his old self, alright? He didn’t get into this predicament overnight, so I don’t want you to think that there will be a quick fix,” Dixie said, smiling sympathetically.

“I understand. I’ll stand beside him as we go through whatever may lay ahead of us. He needs me now more than ever, doesn’t he?” She asked, knowing the answer, but desperately needing validation from the nurse.

“Yes, he absolutely does, and it isn’t easy for men to lean on their wives for support, you know? Men prefer it when we lean on them,” she said with a wink. She was pleased by the knowing smile she saw on the other woman’s face. “Ok, let’s go see how he’s doing?”

Rebecca gave an eager nod, but inside she was a bundle of nerves. She had no idea what she was about to face, but after the pep talk Dixie had given her, she felt a little better prepared for whatever lay ahead.

E!

Hank drifted in and out of sleep. His body was completely exhausted, but his mind was still somewhat alert. He thought he heard his room door opening and the sound of footsteps shuffling in his direction. He felt feminine fingertips grazing across his forehead and gently squeezing his right hand. The touch seemed so familiar, but his remorse from his recent actions sealed his eyes closed. He couldn’t stand the thought of Rebecca leaving him now, but he also couldn’t imagine why she would stay. Truthfully, he wouldn’t blame her if she filed for a divorce taking herself and the girls away from him. That thought caused a tickle in the back of his throat, making his eyes watery beneath his closed lids. He coughed slightly, desperate for relief from the impending tear shed.

“Hank, do you need some water?” Dixie reached down, grasping his left wrist to check his pulse while she waited for a response from him. When he didn’t answer, she reached for the blood pressure cuff.

The sound of the nurse’s voice brought him back to reality. He had seen Dixie brushing Johnny’s bangs off his forehead on many occasions when his younger paramedic had found himself hospitalized, and assumed she was doing the same for him. She was a very caring nurse which he appreciated. He stayed still while she inflated the cuff, knowing she was listening for the gentle thumping sound. Then as soon as he felt the release, it dawned on him that he had never seen anyone take a blood pressure reading using only one hand. The same tender touch of the feminine hand had never broken contact. Dared he hope that his precious wife was indeed with him at this moment?

Dixie recognized the signs and knew that her patient wasn't asleep, but was simply resting. His breathing was not a steady rhythm and his legs were growing a bit restless. Even so, he never opened his eyes which was concerning to her.

"Hank? Hank, are you with us?" Dixie questioned as she softly touched his shoulder.

He smacked his lips slightly, still feeling the effects of the dehydration. "Uh, y-yea."

Again, the wispy fingers trailed lightly across his forehead and he felt the gentle squeeze of a smaller hand in his right one. Then there was the hand on his shoulder - three hands! He could no longer convince himself that Dixie was alone in the room, and with fear and trepidation, he cracked open his eyes.

"There you are," Dixie soothed. "I've brought you a visitor," the pretty nurse grinned, nodding her ash-blonde hair at Rebecca.

Slowly, Hank allowed his head to turn to his right. He forced open his eyes wider as he saw the beautiful, yet battered, face of the woman he loved with all his heart. Her tears were streaming down her face, smearing her make-up, blending it in with the ugly bruises he had caused. He blinked rapidly, clearing his vision so as to make sure she was really there.

"B-Bec-ca?" He croaked out through his dry throat.

“Yes, sweetheart. Yes, I’m here. I’ll… I’ll always be here,” she whispered, battling to control the emotions she could feel welling up inside her chest. Hank looked so weak and broken. He didn’t seem like the tall, stalwart fire captain he had been only a few months earlier. She continued her ministrations, sweeping his forehead with her fingers, completely unsure of herself. She didn’t know what to say or what to do, but she knew she loved him, and she wanted to make sure he knew it, too. 

Hank watched as his tearful wife lowered her face toward his. He closed his eyes, knowing he didn’t deserve the display of affection he thought she was about to show him. His heart rate increased at her nearness and a lump lodged in his throat. He waited for her kiss, yearning to feel the softness of her lips again. He waited in anticipation of the kiss that never came. Instead, Rebecca allowed her lips to linger on his forehead for a moment, then withdrew. 

“Everything’s gonna be alright, Hank,” she whispered, her ears perking up at the sound of a strong knock at the door. 

Dr. Brackett didn’t wait for an invitation to enter the hospital room, followed closely by his resident. 

“Ah, you’re awake. How’re you feeling, Hank?” The older physician asked.

“Tired… Thirsty,” were the only words Hank could manage, gripping his wife’s hand tighter in his own; his fear of her leaving him still hovering near his heart, invading his soul.

“That’s to be expected,” Dr. Brackett looked back at his nurse, smiling inwardly at the way Dixie took charge of the situation by pouring Hank a cup of ice water, and holding the straw to his slightly parted lips. “Hank, I’d like for you to meet Dr. Harrison. He’s doing his residency in emergency medicine, here at Rampart and he, uh…,” Dr. Brackett hesitated, unsure how to broach the subject. “He may have found the answer to part of your mysterious reaction.” 

Hank released the straw with a grateful glance in Dixie’s direction, then looked at the red-haired physician for a long moment. “We’ve met, haven’t we?”

“Yes sir, I treated your wife a few days ago,” Dr. Harrison reassured him. 

“Ah, yea… That’s it.” Hank’s voice seemed to be weakening a bit. “Sorry we, uh… We keep bringing you folks so much business.”

Dr. Harrison relaxed a bit. Hank’s attempt at humor was a good sign and he knew it. He looked to his mentor, who then began the conversation.

“Hank, I need to ask you some questions and we need for you to be completely honest with us, alright?”

Hank closed his eyes for a long moment. “Yes, of course.”

“Now, I want to be completely honest with you, too. I’ve already talked with Mrs. Stanley and your crew…,” he was interrupted before he had a chance to explain.

Hank’s eyes shot back open and he glared menacingly at the two men. “You what? I don’t mind you talking to Rebecca but… Y-you had no right to tell my men anything about me!” His fury was boiling just beneath the surface, but his exhaustion kept him from blowing up completely.

“Settle down, Hank,” Dr. Brackett placed a calming hand on his patient’s left shoulder. “I said I talked to them, but it was actually more like listening.” He waited for the fire captain to calm his breathing slightly and return eye contact before he continued. “That’s better. They shared a lot of very insightful information. They filled in the blanks about what’s been happening at the station. Rebecca helped us understand what’s been happening at home, and together, I think Dr. Harrison and I are fairly certain of our diagnosis.” His azure gaze was stern as he searched the face of his patient for understanding.

“Which is that I’m nuts, right?”

“Not at all, sir,” Dr. Harrison piped up. “I… Um, we,” he began gesturing to his mentor. “We believe that what you’ve been experiencing is called a paradoxical reaction to the Temazepam you’ve been taking.”

Hank rolled his eyes slightly, releasing a hint of a sarcastic grin. “I’m just a fireman, Doc.” He grimaced at the reference then mumbled, “At least, I was.”

Dr. Brackett understood what Hank was trying to say and jumped into the conversation. “Paradoxical reactions are very rare, but they do happen. Basically, it’s when a certain medication has the opposite effect on a person.”

“For example,” Dr. Harrison began. “Have you ever taken diphenhydramine? Uh, Benedryl?”

Hank locked eyes with the physician. “Sure, most people have.”

“And what effect did it have on you?” The red haired physician asked.

“Well, it made the itching stop. And knocked me out, too.” Hank stared down at the blanket covering his legs as he remembered the allergic reaction he had experienced a couple of years ago.

“Exactly what it does for 99.9% of the people who take it. But, let me tell you what it did to me when I took it as a kid,” he snickered, then relayed the tale of his experience.

Hank listened with his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “It did that to you?”

“Yes, it did. And Temazepam is supposed to be a sleep aid as well as a drug to alleviate anxiety,” he paused, waiting for the patient to understand.

“But it made me stay awake, and basically, fret and worry.”

“And growl a little,” Rebecca said, softly squeezing his hand.

“Have I been that difficult, honey?” He asked, worried eyes pleading for a negative response.

“I think it’s safe to say that you’ve been doing quite a bit of growling with your crew, too,” Dr. Brackett said, allowing a half grin to spread.

“And at home,” he mumbled. Hank raked a hand through his dark hair then leaned his head against the pillow. “This has really…. It’s really thrown me, Dr. Brackett. I never thought that it might…,” he didn’t finish.

“There’s more,” Dr. Brackett continued.

“Wonderful,” Hank groaned, turning his head away.

“The caffeine pills you were taking,” he said, waiting for a response from his patient. When he got none, he continued. “I can only assume, because you’ve been having nightmares, that you were using them to try to stay awake. Am I right?”

Hank felt more exposed and vulnerable than if he’d been lying on top of the sheets completely naked. Things he had never intended for anyone to know about, not even his wife, were being openly discussed, and his discomfort was palpable. He didn’t want to face the others in the room, but he had nowhere to hide. “Yes,” he spoke quietly.

Kelly Brackett may not have always had the best bedside manner, but he was keenly aware of the dangers of the injured male ego. He knew that Hank was sinking deeper into his depression, and he knew he had to stop it. “Hank,” he began, placing a hand on the patient’s shoulder. “There’s no shame in any of this. We can’t help you unless we know everything so, you need…”

“You can’t help me anyway, Doc,” Hank interrupted, his hazel eyes appearing sunken as he turned his face toward the older physician. “Don’t you understand? It’s over! I’ve been unreasonable with my crew, so I’m sure they’re going to file grievances. I punched one of my linemen while on the job. I was seen drunk in public, which by the way, the department brass really doesn’t like. Oh yea, and a young man is DEAD because I failed to notice the warning signs and allowed him to stay inside a burning building until it was too late to safely egress!”

“Hank, take it easy now… You’ve just been…,” he tried to finish his explanation, but his patient nearly shouted over Dr. Brackett’s voice.

“No, Doc! It’s too late, I’m telling you it’s too la-ate….” Hank scrubbed both hands over his face, fighting for control of his cracking voice. “I should’ve gone to see that god damn shrink you wanted me to see but, but… The department would’ve found out and then…,” he shrugged, his shoulders heaving. “Then I could’ve lost my job… But, I… I lost it anyway, so…AARRGH!!” He groaned gripping the sheets between his clenched fists and flinging his head back against the fluffy pillows. “It’s… Gone.”

“Hank…,” Rebecca whispered, wiping her own eyes as she listened to the fatalistic views of her husband.

Dr. Brackett was well known for keeping his cool under pressure, but not today. He saw and heard the self-remorse Hank was wallowing in and decided that, rather than lending him a hand with which to pull himself out, he needed to just dive into the mire and kick the fire captain in the ass. He reached forward, roughly unfastening the hospital gown pulling it down exposing Hank’s chest. He used his fingers to part the chest hair on the man’s pale chest as if he were searching for a tiny freckle. The physician continued his probing, then allowed his mouth to twitch. 

“Nope, Hank. I think you’re wrong!”

“What?” Hank questioned, his voice full of exasperation.

“You’re not Superman. See?” He pointed at the fire captain’s chest. “No ‘S’ on there.”

“You’re a fucking riot.”

“HANK!” Rebecca admonished.

“And I think you’re still feeling the effects of the Temazepam.” Dr. Brackett sat on the edge of the bed. “Captain Stanley,” he began, emphasizing his patient’s rank in the fire service. “You have been through a very tragic event – the loss of a man under your command. But you in no way are at fault. From the story I’ve heard, from those with boots on the ground that night, the backdraft happened suddenly and without enough time to give a proper warning. By the time you and the others saw the telltale signs, and ordered the evacuation, it was too late.” Dr. Brackett watched his patient’s chest rising and falling rapidly. He decided to give the man an emotional break by snapping his gown back in place and pulling the blanket back up around his heaving chest. 

“I don’t know if I believe you, Doc. But, but all the other stuff I’ve done lately, I just…,” he cast a quick glance upwards into the bruised face of his wife. 

“Can be easily explained,” Dr. Harrison spoke up.

“But, if… If you report this to Headquarters then they’ll know what I was taking, and then…”

“No they won’t.”

Hank looked perplexed by his physician’s comment. “But your report will list what drug I was taking and then they’ll know.”

“What report?”

Hank rubbed his long fingers across his forehead. “C’mon, Doc. Stop playing these damn mind games with me. I’m too tired.”

“Yes, yes, you are too tired to be working. That much will go in my report when I give you medical clearance. That’s one of the side effects of a bad reaction to medication,” he said, a slight smile forming on his face.

“Wha-what do you mean?” 

“Well, you haven’t been sleeping well since that night,” he said, referencing the night Kyle Carrigan died. “I’d bet several of the men who were there haven’t slept well since then either. You then took a medication to which you had a paradoxical reaction. Add some extra caffeine, I mean, firefighters do drink lots of coffee just like physicians, and of course you began vomiting. That led to becoming dehydrated, again, and so your men rightfully called for an ambulance to bring you in here. I admitted you for fluids and observation.”

“It’s not that simple and you know it,” Hank retorted.

“Well, I wasn’t going to mention the fact that drinking while taking Temazepam increased the effects of the alcohol. That happened off duty,” Dr. Brackett responded, countering each of Hank’s negative remarks.

“Well, explain me taking a swing at Chet Kelly,” Hank said, his voice now only slightly raised.

“Hahaha,” Dr. Brackett laughed. “If Headquarters knows your lineman very well, then they’ll just figure he had that one coming, don’t you think?” The physician’s blue eyes were beginning to twinkle.

Hank’s mouth morphed somewhere between a smile and a grimace. “Maybe… But the ‘A’ shift of Station 51 is a damn fine group of young men, even Chester B. They won’t forget what I did, ever. Chet sure won’t… And I can’t blame him.”

“No,” Rebecca whispered, gripping his hand a little tighter. “They probably won’t, but Hank, don’t sell them short. You’re right when you said they’re, ahem, a darn fine group of men,” she smiled at her paraphrase of his earlier statement. “I know you don’t believe me right now but…. Hank, they love you… So do the girls and I… All of us love you and care about you. We just want you to get straightened out, and back to normal.”

“But, Becca… I-I can’t fix what I’ve broken and…,” he stammered.

Dr. Brackett looked at the other two medical professionals in the room and knew they were all thinking the same thing. The conversation had reached a point where Hank and Rebecca needed some time alone. “Ahem, I think we’ll leave you two alone for a little while. I’ll be back to check on you later, Hank. Let the floor nurse know if you need anything.” He turned to walk out then turned back around. The sincerity in his voice and face were unmistakable. “Hank, I do hope the two of you will seriously consider scheduling an appointment with Dr. Robertson. No one in the department has to know what you do on your off time.”

“Thank you, Dr. Brackett,” Rebecca said, pleased when Hank nodded his agreement.

Hank watched Dixie and the two physicians exit the room, then turned his face towards the sound of his wife’s voice.

“There’s nothing that YOU’VE broken that can’t be fixed, sweetheart. There’ll always be things beyond our control but…,”

He started to open his mouth to interrupt her, but she quickly silenced him with a finger resting on his lips.

“Sshhh… Sweetheart, nothing will bring Kyle back, and that hurts, I know it does. His wasn’t the first line-of-duty funeral for L. A. County and, unfortunately, it won’t be the last. We both know that and we accept the risk. You’ve said it yourself – sometimes the beast wins. You’re going to have to accept that fact, but you also must accept the fact that you were not at fault. He couldn’t be saved, Hank. Chet tried; he did everything he could, but it was simply Kyle’s time. But everything else… Everything else that you think is broken, can be so easily repaired. In fact, you may be the only one who thinks otherwise.” 

Rebecca knew that he was worried about their relationship, their family, and she was determined to get it back on track. She knew he was worried about his job, but after talking with his crew and his physicians, she realized that it probably wasn’t in jeopardy, at this point. Finally, she knew he was worried about his relationship with his men. And she knew that even though there may be a little work needed to restore their faith, she knew that they, too, would be standing by their captain as long as it took for him to climb out of the hellish pit he had fallen into. In her heart, she knew this would be just as much a rescue as any other the men of ‘A’ shift had ever responded to, and no one was more ready and able to hoist their victim to safety than Hank’s crew. They would be there, manning the ropes to pull him back top side; all he had to do was take a step toward the line they were surely throwing down to him. 

Hank looked back down at his blanket-covered legs then up at his wife’s pleading face. He saw the hurt there; the bruises were proof of his need for psychological help. He had always been in control of himself, and for the past several years, he’d been in charge of five other firefighters. Now, he felt as if his world was flying apart, tiny pieces slipping away with each rotation into a vast dark eternity. He tried to speak but couldn’t find the words, and so, he merely nodded his agreement.

Rebecca nearly collapsed onto his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her relief sending a stream of cleansing tears splattering onto his blanket. “Together, Hank. We’ll do this together. You don’t have to do it alone,” she whispered. She pulled back, cupping the left side of his face in her hand and smiling. “And, your men, too. They’re so worried about you; they’re anxious to see you. We left them in the staff lounge, all five of them, and I know they’ll be glad to hear that…,”

“No,” he whispered, his words sending a frown to her face.

She pulled back enough to look him in the eyes. “No… What?”

“Becca,” he gulped. “I’ll see Dr. Robertson, I promise. I-I know that I need help, but… But, I just don’t want to see them. I can’t face them, not after all this.” He squeezed his eyes shut, giving in to the burning sensation behind his closed eyelids. “I need to go to Headquarters… See what my options are, but… They need a captain, a leader. My men…,” his voice faded, a dark shadow settling on his face. “I’ll never be able to call them that again.” 

E!

A/N: I know it may not seem like it, but we are getting close to wrapping this one up. Thanks for all the support, PM’s and reviews. I really treasure them.


	23. chapter 23

Warning: language

Hank’s Haunting 

Chapter 23

John Gage stood within the small circle of friends near the window in the staff lounge, their voices muddled in his ears. He leaned against the wall with his left shoulder; a position that gave him an unobscured view of his seething partner sitting on the small brown couch. He didn’t understand Roy’s anger with his wife for finding a job outside the home. His own mother had worked when he was a child, so he saw no problem with it. However, he did understand Roy’s frustration with Joanne for not telling him first. That was something his own mother never would have done to his father. He, however, had not been so lucky as to find an honest woman with whom to share a long-term committed and intimate relationship. He let that thought go, floating away on the curls of steam wafting up from his coffee cup as he lifted it to his lips. The hot liquid made its way down his throat just as the staff lounge door opened.

Dr. Brackett looked at the group of young firemen gathered in the small room. “Gentlemen,” he nodded by way of a greeting, then proceeded to pour himself a cup of coffee.

“Can you tell us anything, Doc?”

The physician looked at the engineer who had offered up the question. He felt a bit of a sarcastic smirk cross his face, wishing he could give the man an adequate response. “Not much, I’m afraid. He is improving and we do know what went wrong. I’m afraid beyond that, I’m not allowed to say much.”

“Damn it,” Johnny mumbled, turning his face toward the window, his back to the rest of the men in the room.

“Can we see him now?” Marco asked.

Dr. Brackett sighed. “That’s really up to him. Right now, he and Mrs. Stanley are talking, so I think it’d be best to let them continue without interruption.”

“Is she alright? In there, alone with him?” Chet asked worriedly.

“Yes, he’s much calmer now, so I’m not worried about that at all.”

"Does he know we're here?" Johnny cringed at the sarcasm he heard in his own voice. "That didn't come out right."

"I know what you mean, Johnny," Dr. Brackett acknowledged. "Yes, he knows you're here, but why don't you fellas come back later on this afternoon, or this evening after dinner. Give him some time to rest and then maybe he'll be up for a visit from you?"

"Makes sense to me," Marco commented. "At least he knows we came by to check on him. I wouldn't want him to think we were abandoning him or anything."

"Yea, 'cause he'd sure come by to check on us if the situation was reversed," Chet joined in.

"How about we meet in the lobby at 6:00 PM?" 

"Good idea, Mike," Johnny said, slapping the engineer on the back. "I'll see you then."

Roy stood up watching the others filing out of the room. He stuck his arm out, lightly touching Johnny's chest to get his attention. "Look, Johnny... I'm really sorry about earlier."

Johnny heaved a sigh then looked into the worried face of his friend. "Yea, me too. Wanna ride with me back here tonight? I can pick ya up."

Roy stared at nothing in the space between himself and his partner. He thought about the conversation he was going to have with Joanne when she got home, and wished that he didn't need to return to the hospital. But, he needed to see his captain in a better frame of mind, needed to satisfy his own worried mind that the man was truly improving, and on the way to returning to the Captain Stanley they all knew and loved. 

"Yea... Yea, I'd appreciate that," he muttered, following Johnny out the door.

E!

Joanne glanced worriedly at the clock, pricking her finger on a thorn in the process. She stuck her injured finger into her mouth, out of habit, then quickly withdrew it. She didn’t want Mrs. Campbell to see her breaking one of the first rules she had been told when she walked in the door a couple of hours ago.

Iris Campbell had joked that her parents must have known she’d become a florist. Why else would they have given her such a name? When she became a mother, she returned the favor by giving her own daughter a floral name. She had spent the better part of her years dealing in growing and selling plants as well as cutting and arranging colorful bouquets. Now, she found herself in her late forties, tired features making her look years older. She had mentioned being single again for the last three years, but didn’t explain whether she was widowed, separated, or divorced. She wasn’t comfortable enough with her new employee at the moment to explain her rather complicated personal life. 

“Joanne, will you look in the second cooler in the back and bring me about four more yellow roses, please?” She had watched as the young woman did as she was asked, pricking her finger in the process. A snickering grin spread across her aging face. “Happens every time,” she mumbled, the memory of pricking her own fingers never far from her mind.

“Are these the ones you wanted?” Joanne asked in a chipper voice.

“That’s right, good job,” she said, truly pleased with Joanne’s personality and work ethic, so far. “Please, go ahead and sweep up the work room. I didn’t get a chance to do it before I left last night. This funeral is really keeping me busy.”

Joanne thought for a moment, her mind going back to the most recent funeral she had attended. “Is it hard to do?”

Iris clipped off the stem of the second rose, placing it in just the right spot to fill the gap she had noticed earlier, then turned her attention back to the younger woman. “Is what hard?”

“Is it hard to work with families who come in to pick out casket sprays for their loved ones?”

She finished up the arrangement as she contemplated the question. “Actually, this may sound macabre but it’s really rewarding.” 

Joanne arched an eyebrow, unsure if she had heard correctly. “Did you say it was rewarding?”

Iris raked her hand across her work table, removing the remnants of the arrangement. “That’s right. A funeral is one of the last things we get to do for someone we love. The way I see it, we’re helping our customers say their final goodbyes surrounded by the beauty of nature and the sweet fragrances we love. Did you know that fragrances bring back more memories than pictures?”

Joanne shook her head negatively.

“It’s true. And we want our product to evoke positive memories, not of the loss, mind you, but knowing that our customer gave their loved one the best they could. That’s what I love about flowers – beautiful on any budget.”

“I never thought about it like that. I guess we do provide a much needed service, don’t we?” Joanne could already feel the pride swelling within her chest. She loved helping people, but she had always felt like Roy was the only one in their family who actually did it. Now, she could feel good about herself for what she was doing to help others, too.

Iris smiled warmly. “Yes, we do.”

E!

Roy drove his gold Porsche out of the hospital parking lot, hoping that he would walk in his front door and be greeted by his wife. In the back of his mind, he knew that Rebecca Stanley wouldn’t have made that kind of mistake. He turned into his driveway, immediately noticing the empty garage, allowing a curse to slip from his lips. She wasn’t home, and that could only mean one thing. She HAD gotten a job without even talking to him about it first.

Roy spent the next several hours preparing his own meals, and laundering his clothes. Joanne had left the house spotless, as usual, but he needed to do something with his time. Slamming clothes into the washing machine felt therapeutic. He moped around the house, muttering to himself angrily, thankful no one else could see or hear him, lest they think he had lost his sanity. He considered working on the lawn, but he preferred to stay close by the phone in case she tried calling him. Finally, after eating a couple of sandwiches for lunch, he laid down on the couch for a much needed nap. His last shift had been tough, especially having to treat his combative captain. 

E!

Rebecca sat reading a magazine the duty nurse had left her. Her brain wasn’t actually retaining any of the words she was reading, and her eyes frequently drifted from the page to the bed where her husband lay sleeping. She thought about his crew, the young men who had waited for a chance to visit him. It had taken about an hour for her to convince him to allow her to leave to get some breakfast, and she used the opportunity to go back to the staff lounge to update the crew. Unfortunately, she found the lounge empty. Dixie had seen her exiting the room with a devastated look on her face, and had explained that they would be returning later today for a visit. She thought about the relief she felt knowing they were going to return. She knew Hank needed them, even if he didn’t realize it himself. Soft stirring in the hospital bed, brought her attention back to the present.

“Becca?”

“Right here, sweetheart. Need something?”

“Bathroom,” Hank mumbled, fumbling around for the controller to raise his bed. When he threw back the covers, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, dizziness slammed into him full force. “Shit!”

“Hank,” she said sternly, hating it when he swore.

“Sorry… Room’s sp-spinning.”

She immediately rushed to his side, pressing the call button for the nurse. “Slowly, Hank. You’ve got to take it slowly.”

“If I go much slower, I’m gonna piss on myself,” he grumbled.

“Hank Stanley – watch your mouth.”

The nurse walked in, suppressing a desire to chuckle at her patient who seemed tangled in his IV tubing, sitting on the edge of the bed with his feet dangling. “Let me guess, IV fluids filling you up now?”

Hank looked up at the young woman, embarrassment coloring his face and neck. “Yes.” He wanted to say more, but managed to tamp down the sarcastic response he really wanted to toss out at her.

“Alright, let me help you with this,” she said, adjusting the plastic tubing so as not to cause a tripping hazard then helped Hank stand slowly. 

He took in his predicament, hospital gown leaving his backside completely bare, two women flanking him on either side, assisting him with a personal activity he had been managing on his own since the tender age of two years. Once again, he won the battle with his tongue, managing to tame it until he reached the bathroom door. “I’ve got it from here.”

“No, Mr. Stanley. You’re still a little unsteady. Just let me help you with…”

Hank rolled his eyes, staring heavenward as if summoning divine extrication from his current torment. “No! You will not help me with my dic… Er, uh di-decanter.” He wished somehow the floor could just swallow him up.

Rebecca gave him a warming smile, then broke out in uncontrolled laughter, the nurse quickly following suit. Poor Hank was left to wallow in his humiliation with his ever expanding bladder.

“Oh, goodness… Mr. Stanley,” she continued to laugh. “I’ve heard it called a lot of things, but never a decanter.” She reached out, opening the door, and gesturing for Rebecca to take the lead into the bathroom. “Although, now that I think about it, I guess the name fits.” 

Rebecca finally regained her breath. “Aha, honey, I’ll be glad to help you empty your de-can-ter,” she said amid belly-heaving laughs. 

The sound of laughter in the room was contagious, and even Hank’s previous foul mood couldn’t prevent it from spreading. “Well, you’d’ve been upset if I’d said the word ‘dick’ in front of this young lady, now wouldn’t you?” He suggested, allowing his own smile to break free for the first time in weeks.

E!

Roy awoke with a start, the sound of a slamming car door jarring him from his nap. He felt his mouth go suddenly dry and his heart leap into his throat as he listened to the endless chatter of his children, mingling with the sound of Joanne’s voice. He quickly rubbed the sleep from his eyes, sitting up just as he heard the front door opening. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as his icy blue eyes locked coldly with hers.

“Hi, Daddy!” Jennifer sang out, launching herself into Roy’s lap. “Look at the artwork I made at school today.”

Roy pretended to admire the picture, but a heavy weight descended upon his shoulders. Joanne looked radiant, obviously happy with her day. 

“I’ll get dinner started, Roy. I’m sure you’re hungry. How was the shift?” She didn’t wait for a response before heading into the kitchen. Joanne always spoke rapidly when she was nervous, and this was no exception.

“Listen, Princess,” he said, his tone softening as he addressed his young daughter. “Why don’t you take this upstairs to your room for me? Chris is working on his homework, so do you think you can play quietly for a little while so I can talk to Mommy?”

“Okay,” the youngster said, sliding off Roy’s lap and bouncing up the stairs, careful not to damage her cherished work.

Roy exhaled deeply, blowing out his cheeks in anticipation of the upcoming conversation. He stood up, stretching his back, then followed the sound of clanging dishes.

Joanne tensed up at the sight of Roy walking into the kitchen alone. He was angry, she could tell. “Dinner will be ready in about half an hour. I prepared most of it last night so all I’ve got to do is boil the pasta and heat up the sauce and the bread. Then we can eat. Are you hungry? How was your shift?”

“Enlightening… You learn the damnedest things when your captain is in the hospital and you talk with his wife.” He knew he was being curt and rude, but he didn’t care. He wanted to somehow make her feel as tiny and degraded as he had felt in that small room at Rampart, in the early hours of the morning. 

Joanne set about stirring the sauce, then stopped, cringing at his stinging remarks. She tapped the spoon on the side of the boiler, placing it in the spoon holder before turning around to face her husband. “Now, Roy, it’s just a part-time job. Just when the kids are in school. I really like it, and it’ll give us some extra money and…. Wait! Captain Stanley’s in the hospital?”

He ran a nervous hand over his sweaty upper lip. “Yea, he’ll be fine though. Rebecca’s there with him.” He hoped she understood the implications of his statement. If he were to be hospitalized, his wife wouldn’t be there for him. “Johnny’s coming over to pick me up in a little while. We need to go see him.”

The sauce on the stove wasn’t the only thing boiling in the DeSoto kitchen at that moment. Joanne’s emotions were swirling trying to comprehend Roy’s disdain for her job. She always tried to make him feel important to her. She always made sure the house was neat and clean, his food was prepared timely, and that she was available in the bedroom when he needed her. So why couldn’t he ask her about her day? Why couldn’t he be happy for her? After all, she was doing something that she wanted to do, and she enjoyed it. And why was it that every time she needed to talk things through with her husband, he had someone else who needed him more?

“Fine!” She spat out, turning around and continuing her meal preparations. “Dinner will be ready in plenty of time for you to eat before you rush off, away from your family.”

Roy felt the rushing sound in his ears, and knew that he needed to get out of the kitchen before he said something he would regret for the rest of his life. He stomped across the kitchen floor, slamming the door behind him, and made his way into the garage to blow off a little steam before his partner arrived.

E!

Rebecca looked at the remnants of the food on her tray, wondering how to tell Hank about his visitors who would soon be arriving. She had found a secluded corner of the cafeteria, enjoying the solitude as she ate her meal. She glanced at her watch, noting that Hank’s crew would be returning to the hospital in less than half an hour, and knew she had put off the inevitable long enough. She stood, pulling her purse onto her shoulder, then made her way to the elevator. It was time to let her husband know that the five men he had refused to see earlier were coming back, and she wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer this time.

She stood in front of his door, pasting on a smile, then stepped back into the small private room. She saw that he had been brought a tray of real food, more than just broth and Jello. She smiled inwardly, taking a quick inventory of what remained on his plate and quickly surmising that he had consumed at least half, maybe more. “Glad your appetite is returning.”

“You know, I don’t know what Johnny keeps complaining about; this food isn’t half bad when you’re hungry.” He reached forward, carefully gripping the glass and drinking the rest of his apple juice.

Rebecca saw his comment as her segue, rushing through the opening in the conversation before he closed it up again. “Speaking of Johnny, the boys are coming by to see you in a little while.”

Hank returned the empty glass to his tray then looked over at her. “What boys?”

“Your crew, they’re coming by around six,” she said, hoping her nervousness didn’t sound in her voice.

“Becca, I already told you. They aren’t my crew anymore… And, I don’t want to see them… Not now, not ever ‘cause… Because, I… I just can’t,” he broke his rant as his voice choked up.

“Can’t, or won’t?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She felt her ire rising. “Do you mean to tell me that you fight fires for a living, but you’re afraid to face the men who brought you in here this morning?”

“No,” he growled. “I USED to fight fires for a living and I am NOT afraid to face those men, I just… Alright, I don’t want to, okay? Are you happy now?” His breathing increased and he wondered briefly how he could go from being calm to upset in just a few seconds.

Once again, Rebecca looked at her husband, seeing a beaten and broken man. “Hank,” she murmured, her voice softening. “They ARE still your crew, and they wouldn’t come see you if they didn’t care about you. Why won’t you visit with them?” Her eyes pleaded with him.

Hank flared his nostrils with each inhalation. He stared into her face, willing her to drop the subject. “I’m closing the book on this one. I said NO and that’s final. Just send them back home where they belong,” he said, gesturing with his IV-equipped hand.

Rebecca gritted her teeth, working her jaw muscles in a painful manner. She had coaxed, and begged, and even coddled him, but to no avail. She knew that it was time to fight fire with fire, and she had a raging four alarm inferno consuming her from the inside out. She took a few deliberate steps toward his bed, leaning over the upright metal rails, and staring into his eyes until he turned away in discomfort. 

“Henry Stanley, you listen to me, and you better listen good. I have stood by you through the years, worrying each time you left home to go on shift. I brought your two children into this world wondering whether you’d be with me to raise them to adulthood or not. I’ve stood by your bedside when you were injured, prepared meals for your crew when they were incapacitated, and I’ve held your hand at the funerals of those who answered their final alarm. But I’ll be DAMNED if I’ll stand by you and watch you throw it all away!”

Hank felt his eyes widen as his wife stuck her index finger near his nose. “But…”

“I’m not done yet, so you just shut the hell up!” She took a deep breath knowing that if she didn’t continue on, then she’d never say to him all the things she knew he needed to hear. 

Hank threw the covers off his legs once again, scooting down to the lower end of the bed to get around the railing. He felt her eyes boring holes into him, but dared not look her way. He had never seen her this angry before. Just as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, she began again.

“Get your long legs and your skinny ass back in that bed!”

He quickly complied, without even realizing it. He’d never heard her swear, let alone swear at him.

“Those men would do anything for you, and all they want is the chance to see you with their own eyes, to know that you really are doing better. AND, that you’ll come back to them.”

“I, uh,”

“I sat in that lounge, and I listened to everything they had to say on your behalf. Not against you, but FOR you! Yes,” she continued, voice quivering. “Yes, you’ve mistreated them, but they don’t blame you. It was the medication, Hank. It wasn’t you!”

“But I can’t face them, not now.” He hoped she would at least allow him a slight compromise, delaying the visits.

“If not now, when?”

“I don’t know!” He nearly yelled back.

She licked her lips, her rapid breathing drying them out. “You mistreated me, too. Look at my face, Hank Stanley,” she demanded. When he looked up at her, eyes brimming with unshed tears, she continued. “I’m here because I love you, and I’ll always be here. You didn’t mean to hurt me, and I don’t hold you responsible. I forgive you,” she said, knowing he needed to hear the words. “Even though you’ve done nothing that needs forgiveness. They feel the same way.”

Hank shook his head, stumbling over his words, as he once again felt his emotions overpowering him. “N-no, it isn’t the same. Y-you’re married to me, we’re a family, but they…”

“You’re married to them too, Hank. Don’t try to kid yourself. Every time you and your men put on that badge, it symbolizes an oath, a vow. Not just to protect the citizens of this county, but to each other. You’re there for each other in good times and in bad. You’re there to pick each other up, and to rescue each other when times get tough. In sickness and in health. The six of you are also a family, Hank. So why on earth would you walk out on your family?”

“I’m not walking out on my family!” 

“Like hell you aren’t!” she seethed, turning to walk out the door, needing a breath of fresh air. She pulled back on the handle, swinging it wide open. “Oh-uh,” she stuttered, startled at the sight of five plain-clothed firemen, leaning against the wall in the hallway, having heard the conversation that had just taken place inside Hank’s hospital room.

E!


	24. Chapter 24

Warning: language

Hank’s Haunting-24

Rebecca glanced at the floor, her face reddening at the realization that her husband’s crew had overheard their heated conversation. She turned slightly, back towards the door, making sure it had closed completely before she looked back up. She didn’t want Hank to overhear anything being said outside his room.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I wish you hadn’t heard that, but…”

Mike had noticed the pain on her startled face, the embarrassment in her hushed whisper, and he did the only thing he knew to do. He wrapped his strong arms around her, providing her with a shoulder to share the weight of her burden.

“Oh, Mike,” she whimpered. “Thank you.”

“You aren’t in this alone,” he spoke back softly. “We’re all here for you… And for Cap. If he’ll let us,” he added, releasing her when he felt her pulling back.

Rebecca looked around at the downcast faces surrounding her. “Thank you all. He… WE,” she emphasized. “We need you.”

“And we’ll be here.” Marco stepped closer to her, unsure of what more to say, but feeling the need to lend his support, somehow.

“Thank you, Marco,” she said with a forced smile, still keeping her voice low.

“Uh, I doubt Rampart has a full house, so why don’t I see if there’s an empty room around here? I think maybe Cap needs a few minutes to himself.” John turned his head toward the nurse’s station, seeing if he recognized anyone. A familiar strawberry blonde was charting at the desk, and with a hint of his flirtatious grin, he stepped away from the group for a few moments. 

“Excuse me? Diane, right?” He thought he remembered her from a previous hospitalization.

She looked up, then smiled briefly. “Hi, John. Need something?”

“Yes, is there an empty room that my friends and I might use for a few minutes?” He questioned, gesturing towards the small group huddled in the hallway. “We have a few things we need to discuss privately.”

“Sure,” she said with a swift nod. “The last two rooms on the right are empty. Take your time.”

“Thanks,” he said, backing away from the desk, rapping his knuckles as he left. 

“Look, there’s a couple of empty rooms down the hall. Why don’t we go down there and talk? That is, if you feel like it, Mrs. Stanley.” He wasn’t sure if she wanted to share anything with them, but he knew he needed to give her the opportunity to take a break from her husband.

Rebecca hesitated, glancing back at the closed door, the only thing separating her from the man she loved. Biting at the corner of her mouth, she contemplated leaving him alone for a few minutes, but she also wanted to explain to his men exactly what Dr. Brackett and Dr. Harrison had said about his condition. She looked back into their worried faces. “Ok, because I need to tell you what’s been going on with Hank, but I really don’t want to do it out here.”

Chet held out his open palm, aiming it down the hall in the direction of the vacant rooms. Rebecca smiled, stepping in front of the group and leading them to the place where they would finally get some answers.

E!

Alone, inside his room, Hank lay wide-eyed, staring at the ceiling. He had done it again. He had upset his wife when all she was trying to do was help him. He rolled over onto his side, cursing the IV tubing that he seemed to be forever tangling himself in, and curled his legs slightly. He wanted to explain to her why he couldn’t face the men. The problem was, he didn’t want to admit it to himself, let alone anyone else. How could he? What he was feeling made him nothing short of a monster, something he hoped Dr. Robertson could make go away. That is, if he could summon up the courage to tell the psychiatrist what had been going through his mind. At the moment, he didn’t know if he could do it or not. Would the psychiatrist think he was insane? Would he say he needed to be institutionalized for feeling so callous? He huffed, squeezing his

pillow, as he finally gave in to the tears he’d been damming up. There, alone in a cold, stark-white hospital room, Hank wept.

E!

"So, what you're saying is that this Tam – Tem - uh, medicine that Cap's been taking was having the opposite effect on him?" Chet asked, pulling nervously at his mustache.

"That's what they told us, and it does make sense. It certainly didn't affect him the way it was supposed to," Rebecca said, hanging her head. "I just wish he'd've told me he was taking it."

"And now, he wants to quit the department and he's refusing to see us?" Roy questioned, needing confirmation.

"That's what he says," she looked around her, eyes pleading for assistance. “But, please, fellas… Please don’t let him do it. The fire department is as much a part of him as the girls and I are. He won’t be happy doing anything else. Please,” she pleaded, feeling her hands trembling and her eyes tearing up as she turned away. “Please don’t let him do it.”

“Are you saying you want us to go in there, even after he told you he didn’t want to see us, and try to convince him to stay on as our captain?” Johnny paced nervously. “He’ll really be upset.”

“But you…,” she looked around her at the solemn faces of the men she had known for several years. “All of you mean so much to him. Maybe if you talk to him, you can make him see that what he’s doing is wrong.”

“How can takin’ this medication put all this into his mind?” John questioned emphatically. “I mean, if it’s the Temazepam makin’ him do all this – and want to quit the department – then once it’s outta his system, he should feel completely different. There’s gotta be more to it than just the meds.”

“It isn’t just the drugs, Johnny. What he’s doing is running,” Chet chimed in, cutting a blue-eyed glance at Marco. 

Marco nodded in agreement. “He’s right,” he agreed, referring to his partner. “Cap’s running from his own guilt over Carrigan’s death.”

“I agree,” Roy piped up. “Maybe we can talk to him. After all, he isn’t going anywhere for at least another fifteen hours or so, right?”

Mike remained silent, his own mind contemplating a slightly different angle on the situation. He heard the voices of the others discussing the pros and cons of talking to their captain, even though the older man didn’t want to see them. He tried to come up with a way for him to talk with Hank alone, rather than as a part of a larger group. If his theory was correct, he probably needed to confront Hank away from the other guys. Suddenly, his blue eyes popped open wider than before, just as Chet spoke up.

“Alright, count me in too, but somebody else is walking point! He decked me once today; I’m not gonna give him a chance to do it again,” Chet muttered, rubbing his bruised jaw.

“Uh, Rebecca, I’ll be happy to stay with him tonight so you can get back home to the girls,” Mike offered. “You need a good night’s rest and you sure can’t get that sleeping in those ugly plastic chairs,” he explained, motioning to a gold colored one in the corner of the hospital room.

Rebecca hesitated for a moment, thinking over his offer. “I just hate to leave him. He, he needs me, and h-he might get mad if you try to stay.”

Understanding began to make its way around the room as first one man and then another understood what Mike was trying to do. They had worked together long enough that words weren’t always necessary, even between the engine crew and the paramedics.

Johnny seemed to be the first one to understand Mike’s offer. “He’s right, Mrs. Stanley. He brought you here so once we leave, you can’t get home to the girls if they were to need you.”

“None of us have shift tomorrow, it won’t hurt us to miss a little sleep. I can stay too, if necessary.” Marco could tell that Mike wanted time alone with his superior and he wanted to do all he could to support his engineer’s effort in arranging it.

“I can stay,” Chet announced.

“Do you think, maybe he would do better if I wasn’t here? I mean, I called the girls a little while ago so they know what’s going on… Well, sort of, but -”

“But they would worry less if you were at home with them. They need to hear it from you, in person, that their father is going to be alright,” Roy finally joined in with the conversation. His own family issues were weighing heavily on his conscience. 

“Then it’s settled,” Mike spoke up, knowing full well that she had agreed to nothing. “Why don’t you go back in there and let him know that I’m taking you home. While I’m gone, the rest of you can begin the conversation with him. I’ll join you when I get back… If you’re still here, that is.” Mike wasn’t sure if he wanted them to be there when he returned. “Then,   
I’ll finish up the convincing… For the rest of the night if that’s what it takes to get him to change his mind.”

Rebecca shook her head, staring blankly at the wall. “I don’t know. He’s going to be so mad that…,”

“Just let us worry about him,” Chet said softly. “Gage and I know how to handle him when he’s mad,” he flashed her a sincere and slightly contrite smile. 

“Yea… We’ve had a lotta practice,” Johnny snickered, opening the door in a silent gesture for Mrs. Stanley to begin carrying out the plan. 

Rebecca’s eyes began to overflow with tears. The five men standing with her, at that moment, seemed to care as much for her husband as she did. Slowly, she hugged each man; each one special to her in his own way. “I,” she sniffed. “I can never – repay you – for what -” she hiccupped as the lump in her throat lodged even tighter, choking off her words of gratitude.

“No ma’am, no thanks necessary. You said it yourself. We’re family and we take care of our own. That includes you and the girls too,” Mike placed a supportive hand on her back as they walked through the open door and back into the hallway. “Take all the time you need with him to say good night. We’ll wait in the hallway. Just tell him that since I was already here, I’m taking you home and that you’ll be back tomorrow morning.” He looked around at the other men. “Once we’re gone, it’s up to you fellas to get things started. I’ll be back in half an hour or so.”

“10-4,” Johnny spoke for the group as they watched Mrs. Stanley walk slowly to Hank’s room. 

E!

Quietly, she pushed open the door, the light from the hallway spilling across his legs in the dimly lit room. The curtains had been drawn earlier, allowing him to sleep away most of the afternoon. A small part of her wanted him to have fallen asleep again, but she knew that was cowardly thinking on her part. She needed to be truthful with him about where she was going; she just hoped he wouldn’t ask too many questions. She didn’t think she could face him with the news that she had not done what he had asked of her. She had not sent the rest of ‘A’ shift home.

“Becca?” Hank sniffled, wiping his face with the pillow. “Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me. How’re you feeling?” She asked, walking quietly to his bedside. She could tell he had been crying; he was trying to bury his face in the pillow to hide the evidence.

“Head hurts a little,” he complained. “Did you talk to the men yet? Do they understand that I, ahem, I don’t want to see them?” His voice caught in his throat.

Rebecca hated what she was about to do, but she knew it was what had to be done. She trusted Hank’s men to keep him safe every shift. Now, she was trusting them with a different kind of safety for him. “Y-yes… Yes, I spoke with them. I told them that you, ah, you didn’t want to see them.” She took a quick breath and kept going, hoping he wouldn’t question her. “Mike is going to take me home for the night. He brought me here this morning, so I don’t have another way home. I need to ch-check on the girls,” she stuttered, knowing she wasn’t being completely honest with him. “But, I’ll drive back over here first thing in the morning, sweetheart. I promise, okay?”

Hank wanted to plead with her not to leave him alone in a hospital room with his horrible thoughts running through his mind, thoughts he couldn’t control. The nightmares, his constant companions, were lurking in the shadows of his room just waiting for him to drift off to sleep. Yet, he had caused her to lose many nights of sleep over the last few weeks. He knew she needed to go home, both for her sake and for the sake of their daughters. He didn’t like the thought of them being home alone. “I-I understand. Thank you, for everything, Becca.” He sniffed, wishing he didn’t feel like such a failure. “I’m so sorry for everything I’ve put you through.”

“Sshhh, it’s alright, sweetheart,” she whispered, brushing his hair away from his face. She lowered her face to his, kissing him lightly on his forehead. “It’s alright. Sleep well, and I’ll see you first thing in the morning. I love you, Hank,” she said, pulling away and turning towards the door.

She didn’t see his hand reaching out for her, missing her arm as she turned to walk away. He had needed to touch her before she disappeared, but he had missed his opportunity. “I love you too, Becca,” he whispered back.

Mike looked up at the sound of the door opening and noticed her tear-stained face. He watched as she pressed her lips into a thin line; he knew she wasn’t in complete agreement with what they were doing, but he also knew that she was trusting them to handle the situation. Silently, he vowed not to let her down.

“Take care of him, fellas,” she spoke, whisking away a tear with her index finger.

“He’s in good hands, Rebecca,” Mike consoled. “Are you ready?”

She clutched her purse a little tighter, adjusting the strap on her shoulder, nodding her head. 

“I’ll be back soon,” he said to the others, then turned to escort her downstairs, returning her home.

E!

For several long moments, the four remaining firemen stared at the floor, the ceiling, anywhere except at each other. No one wanted to be the first to enter Hank’s room and yet they all knew it had to be done.

“A’right, I’ll go in first. He hasn’t been as mad at me as he has the rest of ya… At least, this time,” Johnny said, pushing himself off the wall and heading towards the door.

“Should we do this one at a time or all go in at once?”

“Aw, hell, Marco… We might as well just get it over with. It’s like going for a swim in the ocean; ya gotta just dive in. Going in slowly just makes the pain last longer,” Johnny stated, somewhat proud of his analogy.

“Well, using your logic, I’m goin’ last,” Chet said, positioning himself behind Roy.

“You’re just chicken shit, you know that, Kelly?”

“Shut up, Gage! He didn’t punch you!” Chet retorted, both men knowing full well that their verbal sparring was only a delay tactic.

“Go, Junior,” Roy said, shoving his partner lightly in the back. 

“A’right, a’right. I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” he grumbled. He raised his fist up, knocking three times in quick succession. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if Hank would acknowledge the knock. When he didn’t, Johnny cracked open the door, sticking his head in the room. “Hey, Cap?”

Hank’s aching body froze at the sound of his younger paramedic’s voice. Hadn’t Rebecca said that she told his men that he didn’t want to see them? So why was John here? Hank knew the answer to his own question. John Gage was a hard-headed, sometimes wayward, young man… One hell of a firefighter/paramedic, but still wayward, at times.

“Yes, John?” He called out, staying curled away from the door.

“Mind if I come in?”

Hank cleared his throat once again. “Ahem, actually yes, I do. Didn’t Rebecca tell you I didn’t want any visitors? I’m really tired and need to rest. Maybe… Maybe another time.”  
Johnny pushed open the door, leading the group of nervous young men into what could only be called ‘hostile territory.’ “Um, yea-yea, she did but you know me, Cap. I never listen.”

“That’s for sure,” he said rolling over slightly so he could look Johnny in the eye when he asked him to leave. “Johnny, I really wish…,” he began, halting his request when he realized his room was full of uninvited guests, the men he had asked Rebecca to send home. Once again, he felt his heart leap into his throat and his respirations quicken. “I know I made it clear to Rebecca that I wanted her to send you men home. And, I know my wife didn’t forget to tell you. Please, just go home. All of you. I don’t want to see anyone right now,” he grumbled, rolling back onto his side away from his men.

“Don’t want to see anyone or just don’t want to see us?” Marco asked.

Hank grimaced. “Lopez, it isn’t like you to have an attitude with me. I see Gage and Kelly are rubbing off on you, huh?”

Marco saw his chance and took a verbal leap of faith. “The way I hear it, you don’t plan to be my captain anymore, so I don’t have to worry about my attitude with you. I don’t take orders from you now, so I know I won’t get latrine duty for it.”

Hank couldn’t believe his ears. This wasn’t the Marco Lopez he knew and respected. Realizing he was greatly outnumbered, he reached for the call button. If the men wouldn’t leave on his request, then he’d make sure his nurse threw them out. 

Roy saw Hank’s eyes land on the nurse call button. Hank was quick, but Roy was quicker. “Nu-uh, Cap. We need to have a talk. Your nurse can’t do anything for you that Johnny and I can’t do.”

“Except have a little respect for me and honor my wishes,” Hank groaned. “Don’t make me say it again. Get. Out. Now.” He gave each man a stern look, but saw it reflected back as if he were looking in a mirror. “Please?” he finally added.

“No, Cap. We came here to tell you something and we aren’t leaving until you hear us out,” Chet said, his voice sounding calmer than he felt. He didn’t even realize that he had taken a half step behind Marco, as if using him as a human shield.

Hank began to cough, his mouth drying out in anger. “Ahua, hua,” he choked out, placing his fist at his mouth.

“Here,” Roy said, pouring him a cup of ice water from his bedside table. “Drink a little of this.”

Hank accepted the proffered cup, gulping down the refreshing liquid. He felt Roy take the cup from his hand, but refused to look at his paramedic. His guilt and anger were melting into something unknown and unfriendly inside his gut. 

“See, we can do everything the nurse could do if you called her. So, I’d say you are stuck with us for a little while,” Roy said with a smirk.

“Look, I’m sorry, men. I know an apology doesn’t mean anything to you right now. You’re all mad as hell and I don’t blame you. So, just know that I’m gonna make all of this right and you… Ahem,” he tried to clear the lump in his throat. “You won’t have to be worried about what I might do to you anymore.”

“You think that’s why we’re here? Because we want some kind of apology for something that wasn’t even your fault to begin with?” Chet questioned, his own anger beginning to boil his Irish blood.

“Isn’t it, Chester?” Hank questioned. “I see that bruise on your jaw, and I know I did that to you. I AM sorry. I KNOW you’re going to file a grievance. I DON’T blame you for doing it. But I WILL take care of it for you, myself!” Hank felt his heart pounding inside his chest. “I’m going to Headquarters just as soon as I get released from this god-forsaken hell-hole and I’m going to resign! Alright?” His voice was nearly a shout, but he needed these men to understand what he was doing.

Chet thought back to Johnny’s description of him a few minutes earlier and decided it was appropriate to use with their captain. “Cap, that’s just chicken shit!”

“WHAT?” Hank couldn’t believe his ears.

“You heard me, Hank. I said that’s a chicken shit attitude. Running away from this,” he pointed at his jaw, “instead of facing it.”

“I am facing it! I’m looking at you right now. I’ve said I was sorry. I’m going to resign. Probably get arrested for assault. Damn it, Chet, what else can I do? You wanna take a swing at me, hit me back? Go ahead!”

“No, I don’t wanna hit you. What I want is for you to face whatever demons are haunting you, defeat them, and then come back to be our captain,” Chet looked for the others for support, but saw shock in their eyes instead. He would have been worried that he had crossed some invisible line in the sand except for one small gesture. The left side of Johnny’s mouth twitched a little, causing his brown eyes to sparkle. Chet watched as his friend dipped his head slightly, a silent acknowledgement that he agreed with what had been said.   
The young lineman blew out his breath.

“My career as a captain in the fire department is over, Chet. Headquarters will demote me, at best, after what I’ve done…”

“Not if you don’t go down there,” Chet pleaded.

Hank looked away from his men, staring blankly at the empty wall. “Doesn’t matter. They’ll know when the reports come in and…”

“What reports?” Marco questioned.

“Marco, please… This is hard enough without you being condescending. I know what I’ve done. I’ve messed up, fellas. There will be reports that must be filed to headquarters about my behavior and I know that. I’m expecting it.”

“Who’s filing a report?” Roy questioned.

Hank looked up at the men he had known and trusted for years. He had watched them grow in a multitude of ways and couldn’t be more proud of them. Now, it was time to turn them loose. He couldn’t hold them back any longer. “Mike will,” he said matter-of-factly. “He has to; he’s second in command.”

“No he doesn’t,” Chet spoke up. “I asked him not to. I don’t want to file a complaint or a grievance against you, Cap. I j-just want you back,” he stuttered, the emotional conversation was beginning to take its toll on him. 

“You were having a nightmare. You didn’t mean to do anything,” Marco spoke up. “I was sitting on you, looking into your eyes but they were… Blank, just blank. You weren’t seeing me or anyone else at that moment.”

“None of us are angry or upset about what happened,” Roy added.

Hank’s mind sent him reeling back to all the other incidents that had happened over the last few weeks. One by one, he mentioned them and yet, his men explained them away as if he had done nothing wrong. He apologized to Roy and Marco, thanking them for seeing that he got home safely from Cinders. He told them both how sorry he was for being so hard on them during the following shift. He also acknowledged that he had put them in a precarious position as far as Rebecca was concerned, and he deeply regretted that as well. If the situation had been reversed, he would have assumed they were guilty of spousal battery. 

He looked at Chet, remembering how harsh he had been with the young lineman when he reported for duty after his foot injury. His heart ached as he remembered how easily he could’ve resolved that issue without being so critical of him. He thought back to the day during roll call when these same men gathered around, each supporting Chet by claiming to have a plausible explanation for the Irishman’s actions. Chet’s behavior was certainly no worse than Hank’s own actions over the last few weeks. Truthfully, Hank’s behavior had been worse, especially for a man of his rank and tenure with the department. 

He listened to Johnny’s excuses for the behavior of his captain, never once faulting the man for his actions. He thought of how he had requested that Johnny change Rebecca’s dressings on her burns and how quickly the young man had accepted the request, fulfilling it with professionalism even though he was suspicious. He considered how he had deliberately set out to undermine the bonds these men shared with each other, bonds of a brotherhood that served to keep them alive and safe. How could any fire captain allow himself to do such a thing? He had tried to divide and conquer as if the ‘A’-shift at 51’s was nothing more than pawns in a game of chess. He had strategized, deliberately positioning the men so as to weaken their brotherhood. Finally, in an act of utter despair, he asked them once more to leave his hospital room.

“Listen, I know what you want from me but… I just can’t give it to you. I have to do this… For everyone’s sake, especially you men.” He looked into the forlorn faces of the men surrounding him. He no longer felt a kinship with any of them, no longer thinking of himself as the eldest of six brothers. Instead, he found himself lying in bed looking up – a fitting position that matched his feelings of inferiority. There was no doubt in his mind that he was the weakest link in the chain, and he needed to separate himself from them in order to restore the strength and integrity of the group that his actions had taken away. He feared that if they stayed any longer, his heart might betray him. He couldn’t allow himself to become so vulnerable in front of them that he revealed his greatest horror about himself. Chet had been right when he mentioned that demons were haunting him. The only solace he found within his haunted soul was the fact that no one – not even Rebecca – knew exactly what was driving him away from the department and his men. He had been honest in what he had said to them all, but there was more; one more demon that turned his soul ablaze with the fires from hell. He truly appreciated what the men were trying to do for him. But this was an internal battle that he fought alone, one that he could neither face head on and defeat, nor outrun. It had attached itself to him as surely as his own shadow. And he was more frightened of it than the macabre face of death itself.

E!

A/N: Thank you all for your feedback, reviews and PM’s. One more chapter to go to finish this saga. Well, finish it enough to pick up with Roy and his troubles at home. Hank’s and Chet’s stories will continue as we move along in this series.


	25. chapter 25

Warning: language

Hank's Haunting – 25

Mike turned into the Stanley driveway and shut off his pick-up truck. He walked around to help Rebecca with the door, her hands still bandaged, but healing.

"Thank you so much, Mike. I-I don't know what might've happened if you men hadn't been there for him this morning." She accepted his hand on her elbow as she stepped out of the vehicle.

"I know you didn't want us to overhear what you said to him about us all being family, but it really struck a chord with us." He turned, following her to the front door. "You really made a lot of sense." He paused for a second, unsure of how much to share with her, then deciding she needed to know. "We all agree with your analogy of 'A'-shift being like a marriage. And, we all agree – divorce is NOT an option for us. We WILL get through to him, somehow."

Rebecca pulled her keys out of her purse, quickly slipping the house key into the lock. As soon as she opened the door, Vickie and Missy rushed to greet her.

"Mom?" Vickie cried out.

"Where's Dad? Is he better?" The elder Stanley daughter asked in a nervous voice.

Mike waved at the teenaged girls as he turned to step back out the doorway. He had delivered Mrs. Stanley back home, ensuring her safety. Now, he had to return to the hospital and convince his captain to change his mind.

"Bye, girls. Call me if you need anything, Mrs. Stanley."

Rebecca smiled warmly. "I will, Mike, and thank you again. Oh, and… I do hope you can get through to him tonight."

A hint of a bashful smile played briefly on his handsome face, then was quickly covered by the shadows of evening as he turned and walked away.

E!

Dr. Brackett slammed the chart closed, rubbing his chin in confusion. He reached for his coffee, tilting his watch slightly. As if on cue, Joe Early waltzed into the staff lounge, his face glowing with a faint pink tint from his time off in the sun.

"Well, Kel, time for you to head on out. Your relief is here," he chuckled, pulling a striped mug from the shelf and filling it with coffee.

Dr. Brackett cocked an eyebrow at his friend as he pushed the chart across the table. "I see Acapulco agrees with you," he smirked, nodding at the empty chair across from where he sat.

"Yes, it does. I had a wonderful time," the gray-haired physician said taking a seat in front of the chart. "What've you got for me here?"

Kelly Brackett leaned forward on the table, waiting for his friend to retrieve his reading glasses from the pocket of his lab coat before he began. "I need a consult, Joe. I prescribed a treatment for, er… Well, just read it and tell me what you think."

The older man perched his black framed glasses on the end of his nose and opened the chart. He took several sips of his coffee as he perused the hand-written notes, the penmanship as familiar to him as his own. He flipped back a couple of pages, reading the name and grimacing. "Humph, I was afraid something like this might happen after that night."

"So, did you notice anything unusual about the treatment?"

Dr. Early quickly flipped through the notes again then closed the chart, removing his glasses and placing them next to his coffee cup. "No… No, I concur with your assessment and treatment plan."

Dr. Brackett reached across the table, opening the chart and pointing to the list of prescribed medications with his index finger. "Then please explain to me why this drug had this effect," he requested, tapping his fingers first on the bottom of the second page and then again on the top of the third.

Joe Early squinted his eyes, pushing the chart a little farther away, then smiled. "Kel," he stated, pulling his coffee cup into his right hand and leaning back in his chair. "You know I dabble in a little jazz from time to time, right?"

Dr. Brackett shot his friend an exasperated glare. "Yea… What's that got to do with Hank?" He asked, slapping a palm down on the closed chart and pulling it back towards himself.

"I've got musician friends who suffer from a bit of stage fright. A couple of them have shared with me that when they take a beta blocker, it enhances their performance." He quickly raised his hands as if in surrender when he saw the accusatory look his colleague was tossing at him. "No-no… I don't prescribe anything for them. In fact, I don't really want to know where they're getting it but… Well, it really works. I've seen it myself. It has a calming effect."

"You mean, by slowing down the heart rate, it reduces anxiety as well?"

"Don't quote me on the mechanics of the whole thing, but… Like I said, I've got a couple of friends who swear by it and…," he crossed an ankle over the opposite knee. "I've watched them perform with and without it. Believe me, there IS a difference."

Dr. Brackett leaned back releasing a sigh. "Well, I'll be damned."

"Oh, now don't get me wrong, Kel. I don't think a pill can fix him completely. I agree that he needs therapy to go along with it but, well… Continuing on the beta blocker can't hurt," he said, sipping his coffee.

The younger man pushed his palms flat against the table as he stood up. "Normally, I'd just turn him over to you but, he's a friend so… I think I'll check on him one more time before I head home."

"Why don't I join you? I think Captain Stanley needs all the friendly faces he can get right about now."

Dr. Brackett clapped his hand on his friend's shoulder. "He sure does, Joe. He sure does."

E!

Hank looked at the forlorn faces surrounding his hospital bed and felt a large lump lodge in his throat. How could he get them to understand something that he couldn't explain to them? In fact, he couldn't even admit it to himself? He coughed slightly in an effort to clear his throat enough to allow his voice to work again. "Men, please… I'm tired and I-I don't wanna argue with you. I just… This is the right thing to…"

"Bullshit!" Johnny had tried being nice and pleading with his captain. Now, he was ready to fight.

"Gage, don't…"

"No, Stanley," he said sarcastically. "Don't YOU try to order me to shut up!" Johnny ran a nervous hand through his dark hair. "We've been a good crew for you and you know it. What happened that night wasn't your fault. You know that, too!" He nearly shouted, index finger pointing at his superior. "If it was me lyin' in this hospital bed, you'd be tellin' me the same damn thing, wouldn't ya?"

Hank looked down, staring at the mustard colored blanket, unable to answer his paramedic. The young man was right in everything he was saying.

"But it wasn't you, John. You didn't send a man to his death and…," he hesitated, staring at his two linemen who had turned their faces away from him.

"And neither did you." John stared at the man he'd held in such high esteem for several years, his chocolate eyes melting as he struggled to control his breathing. "I respect you, Cap. I always have and I always will." His voice grew softer. "But right now, all I feel is disappointment in you for letting us down. Never would I have thought that you'd walk away from us." He turned sideways, staring at the floor with his hands on his hips. "This is abandonment. You're leaving us – your brothers – when we need you." He lifted his face, watching as Captain Stanley gulped, knowing his words were hitting their mark. "I just want you to know one thing. We, none of us, would ever do to you what you're doin' to us." He stormed out the door leaving the rest of his shiftmates in stunned silence, and a fire captain trembling with guilt and despair.

Hank sank back into the bed, pulling the covers up around his neck. Johnny had unknowingly hit Hank where it hurt; the young paramedic had questioned his captain's loyalty to his men and to the department. Hank wondered briefly if perhaps he should stick it out with the department a little longer, see if the brass came down on him for his recent behavior. That same small part of him wanted to reach out to the three men who remained in the room and beg for their forgiveness for how he'd treated them. But his own ego, the part of him that feared how they would react if they knew the truth, caused him to turn his back to the three remaining men, leaving them with the certainty that the conversation was over.

E!

The two physicians stepped off the elevator just as Johnny rushed from Hank Stanley's room and began pacing in the empty corridor. They exchanged worried looks then proceeded down the hallway. Just as they got to him, Johnny halted his nervous behavior and leaned his back against the wall. The door to the stairwell opened, ushering Mike Stoker into the dramatic scene with three sets of eyes staring at him.

"Uh, has something happened?" The normally quiet engineer asked of the small group.

"Yea," Johnny said, nodding his head toward the hospital room he had just exited. "He's bein' just as stubborn and bullheaded as… As Chet!"

"I resent that," Chet said, trudging out of the room, Marco and Roy following him.

"Sorry," Johnny apologized with a huff.

Roy looked at the assembled group. "Still says he's resigning."

"Uh-oh," Dr. Brackett said. "So I'm assuming you fellas tried to talk him out of it?"

"Tried," Marco stated flatly. "But failed."

"He doesn't need to be making any life-altering decisions right now. Not for quite some time, actually," Dr. Early added.

Mike crossed his arms over his chest, nodding his head in affirmation. "Does he know I'm staying with him tonight?"

"Nope," Chet said, slapping his engineer on the back. "Thought we'd leave that joyous announcement to you."

Mike quickly flashed his eyebrows upwards and gave his lineman a smirk. "Thanks."

"Say, I might be able to help you with that," Dr. Brackett announced. "Give me just a minute," he stated, scurrying towards the nurse's station.

All eyes followed him, wondering what the hard-nosed physician was up to. They watched as he returned with something white in his hands. Roy was the only one who seemed to understand what was about to happen and a grin crossed his round face.

"Oh, this ought to be interesting," the senior paramedic spoke softly.

"Are you serious, Kel?" Dr. Early questioned.

"You bet I am, and you're going along with it since he's your patient for the night shift," he smiled then turned his blue eyes to the tall engineer. "C'mon, Mike. You'll know when to intervene."

Four firemen stood as close to Hank's doorway as they possibly could, hoping to eavesdrop. Johnny suddenly recognized what Dr. Brackett was holding and slipped his partner a lopsided grin. For a moment, there was silence inside the room and then the sound of muffled voices. Finally, an explosive expletive permeated the quietude of the hallway.

E!

"Hank, I'm about to leave for the night, but Dr. Early will be here if you need anything," Kel said, reaching for the left arm of his patient who continued to lay on his side with his back turned toward the door.

"Okay," Hank mumbled feeling his arm being pulled away from his body. He waited for the usual vitals check, but that wasn't what happened. When he felt the tightness of the restraint pulling his arm against the metal bedrail, he jerked his head to the side, eyebrows knitting in confusion. "What's this for?"

"I understand that your wife had to go home. We can't take a chance on you having another nightmare and pulling out your IV." Dr. Brackett finished restraining Hank's left arm, making sure that the IV tubing was secure.

"For god's sake, Doc. If I pull it out then just stick it back in again. My veins are like ropes so you can't miss."

"Can't do that," Dr. Early spoke up. "If you dislodge the cannula then it could go straight to your heart and kill you. Gotta keep you restrained," he explained watching as his colleague walked around the bed and began applying the second restraint to Hank's right arm.

"Oh HELL, NO!" Hank jerked his arm away from the physician. "Not both of them!"

"Listen to me, Hank," Kel said, serious eyes staring at his belligerent patient. "You could reach over with your right arm and pull out the IV," he said nodding to the already restrained arm. "I'm not going to be responsible for that happening, and neither is Joe."

"So what if it kills me," Hank protested. "I refuse to be tied to the bed like some animal!"

"It's not up to you; it's up to us," Kel said, leaning against the railing.

"I know my rights and I know I can damn well refuse treatment," Hank argued. "In fact, I'm leaving here NOW!" He shouted, reaching over to remove the restraint on his left hand.

"Look at me, Hank," Kelly Brackett said, grave concern covering his face. He pressed his open palm against the fire captain's heaving chest. "One more move from you and I'll have all four of your limbs restrained - against your will. I CAN do that based on your behavior earlier today and your comments just now."

Hank rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't."

"Try me," Dr. Brackett dared.

"He's right, Hank," Joe said, stepping into Hank's line of sight. "You could be considered a danger to yourself and others."

"Jeezus!" Hank said, his voice frustrated but no longer raised. "I'm being railroaded by my own crew. They're behind this, aren't they?"

"Thought we weren't your crew anymore," Mike said, stepping out of the shadows.

Hank slammed his head into his pillow, staring at the ceiling and desperately needing to change the subject. "Are you responsible for this, this nonsense?"

"No, sir. None of us are, but it sounds like it's what's best." Mike stood, arms crossed as he stared at his captain.

Even in Hank's frustrated state of mind, his thoughts went to his wife. "Did you get Becca home alright?"

"Yea… You're welcome, by the way," Mike snorted.

Hank took a few more deep inhalations before he continued. He was outnumbered and he knew it. "Docs, please… Please, don't tie me up like this?"

"What if I stayed with him tonight? Would you allow him to sleep without the restraints?" Mike asked, already knowing the answer. "I can stay awake and if he starts having another nightmare, then I could wake him up before he jeopardizes his IV."

"No," Hank stated, emphatically. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Yes, you do. I'll agree to leave you without restraints IF Mike stays." Dr. Brackett looked back and forth between Hank and Mike. "Well?"

Hank didn't answer, refusing to look up.

"Sounds like an offer you can't refuse," Joe persuaded. "Shackles, or Mike?"

"You don't have to do this, Mike," Hank said, his voice sounding almost meek.

"I know I don't, Cap. But I want to. Will you let me?"

Hank looked at his left arm, white restraint pinning it to the metal rail. He didn't like either option, but he hated the feeling of being tied up worse than having Mike sit with him all night. "On one condition… You don't try to change my mind."

Mike nodded his head. He would agree to anything at this point just to have a few hours alone with his captain. More than anything else, he hoped he could persuade Hank to continue on as Captain of the 'A' shift at 51's. Maintaining the integrity of their team was just as important as maintaining Hank's dignity, maybe more so.

E!

The men in the hallway looked at the two physicians as they walked out of Hank's room, devious grins on the faces of both doctors. The entourage headed for the elevator before anyone spoke.

"You're good, Doc," Johnny said, wrapping an arm around Dr. Brackett's shoulder.

"You've given me a lot of practice," the physician joked back reaching out to press the elevator call button. "You fellas go home and get some rest. Let's give Mike a few hours to work on him."

"I hope Mike can get through to him," Chet added.

"If anybody can, it's Stoker," Roy stated just as the elevator arrived.

The group stepped on board, each one gazing briefly down the hallway wondering what might be going on in the small private room.

E!

Hank rolled away from his engineer, refusing to even look at him. Once again, he had been forced to do something he didn't want to do, which did nothing to improve his state of mind. He could hear Mike pulling out the plastic chair and retrieving a blanket from the small closet.

"Good night, Cap," Mike offered, grimacing when the only response he got was a muffled grunt. He wasn't sure if Captain Stanley was angry, frustrated, or embarrassed – probably a combination of all three. At some point before Rebecca returned, he hoped to have the opportunity to let his captain know that he was not alone in his thought processes. Mike had experienced the same shameful feelings after the backdraft on that fateful night. He had never verbalized them to anyone and a part of him needed to say it out loud, no matter how horrible it sounded. At the moment, the man lying with his back turned to his engineer, was the only other person who may understand what was going through his mind. He had no doubt that Captain Stanley was feeling the same thing. Now, he just had to figure out a way to get the older man to admit what he was experiencing so that they could both deal with it appropriately.

E!

Chet slammed the door of his van closed, walking slowly up the sidewalk towards the stairwell of his apartment complex. He stared briefly at Caroline's door, wondering if she was still awake. He didn't want to be alone at the moment, but he also knew he wouldn't be very good company. He stood on the desolate sidewalk, contemplating knocking on her door. He wanted to feel the warmth of her arms around him, hear her soft reassurances that everything was going to be okay. He closed his eyes, imagining the scent of her shampoo rising from beneath his chin as he held her close to his chest. The longer he lingered, the more intense the sensation became until he could hear her sweet voice calling out to him.

"Chet?"

He opened his eyes, realizing that she was standing in her open doorway, robe cinched tightly around her waist. "Uh, I-I was, ah..."

"C'mon in," she said with a kind smile, stepping aside. "You look like you could use a friend right now."

The Irishman shoved his hands deeply into his front pockets. He did need a friend at the moment; the visit with his captain had not gone as well as planned. He also realized something else as he stepped over her threshold. He was beginning to think of Caroline Marks as more than just a friend.

E!

Roy stepped out of the shower and towel dried his red hair. He combed it neatly to the side, allowing it to dry while he brushed his teeth. Joanne had already gone to bed when he'd gotten home and he was trying not to wake her. He turned off the light in their bathroom before slowly opening the door and stepping softly across the floor to their bed. He stared at her for a moment, wondering why he had been so hard on her earlier. She really hadn't had a chance to tell him about the job before he inadvertently found out from Rebecca Stanley. So what if she worked while the kids were in school? The extra money would allow them to put a little money away for the college funds of their children or maybe even enjoy an occasional trip to Disneyland. He knew that deep down, he felt threatened by her independence. Her mother had never liked him, accusing him of not being a good provider. Maybe that thought had spurred him on when they were arguing earlier. Regardless, he would apologize in the morning. He had been wrong; in his mind so had she, but he would apologize and get the air cleared before he went back on shift, day after tomorrow. He pulled back the covers enough to slide into his side of the bed, careful not to wake her up.

Joanne lay frozen in place on her side of the bed, her back turned to her husband. She wanted him to think that she was asleep so as to avoid another confrontation. She gritted her teeth as she thought back over the events of the day. Had he really expected her to call him while he was on shift and tell him about her job? She had decided long ago never to call him at the station with news that might cause him to be distracted while on a run. Bad grades, misbehaving children, leaky pipes, all of those things could wait for him to get home. She felt the same way about announcing her job. His reaction had proven her to be correct. He would have been distracted, which could cause someone to be injured, or worse. She felt him shift his position in the bed and knew he was on his back, staring at the ceiling. Part of her wanted to roll over and snuggle in his arms, but the other part wanted to stay away, to not give in to him. She knew she owed him an apology, but it would have to wait. She was exhausted from being on her feet and moving things most of the day. All she wanted to do was relax and get a good night's sleep. She forced her breathing to remain steady and even, continuing the deceptive act that she was sleeping until, finally, her body and mind agreed and she drifted into a restless slumber.

E!

Around four in the morning, a squeaky cart rolled past Hank's door, pulling Mike out of his light nap. He had tried his best to stay awake, but the quiet darkness of the room made the task too difficult. He had been brought back to a state of wakefulness a couple of times before; once when the stairwell door slammed shut and again when one of the nurses sneezed as she walked by the door. He scrubbed his face in an attempt to rouse himself a little more, squinting as he looked at his watch. It was early in the morning, which meant that his captain had been sleeping peacefully for nearly seven hours. He looked over at his charge, the older man stretched out on his back with one knee bent slightly. Mike tried to quietly pull himself up into a sitting position without causing the uncomfortable plastic chair to squeak. He had just managed to straighten and stretch his stiff back when a pitiful groan escaped the sleeping man's lips.

"Ungh," Hank moaned in his sleep, his eyes twitching beneath closed lids.

Mike slowly rose to a standing position, then tiptoed to the side of the hospital bed. He could see that Hank's respiration rate had increased significantly, his fingers jerking lightly on the sheet.

"Nugn, no… ge… ut," he continued muttering, his face contorting from the agony his subconscious was putting him through.

Carefully, Mike laid a hand on Hank's forearm just above his IV. "Ssshhh, it's okay," he whispered.

Hank smacked his dry lips together squinting his closed eyes as if looking into a bright light. His head rolled from side to side and he straightened out his bent knee. "Nugn, don… C'bac…not… 'em," he continued, unaware that Mike was positioning himself closer to his dreaming captain.

Mike lowered the bedrail, allowing better access to Captain Stanley. "Cap," he spoke a little louder this time. "Cap, can you hear me?" He didn't want to startle the man into consciousness.

Hank's nightmare continued to progress; the haunting images continuing to reach out to him from behind his closed eyelids. His arms tried to pull free, to fight the beast and save those who were lost in the inferno, but his limbs were immobile. He couldn't move, watching in horror as his men fell prey to the howling hounds from hell which yelped maniacally from the burning structure.

Mike used his weight to hold his captain still while he continued to try to gently wake him up. "Hank?" He leaned forward, nearer the older man's face. "Henry Stanley, wake up now," he said a little louder.

Hank's body jolted, his hazel eyes shot open as the look of sheer terror molded his face in a grotesque manner in the predawn darkened room at Rampart. He was gasping for air, not understanding why he couldn't breathe, until he realized that someone was on top of him, restraining him. Unsure whether he was dreaming or awake, he bucked his hips, thrashing about in an effort to dislodge his attacker. "No, lemme go! Gotta - get'em - out! Get'em out!" He continued in a raspy voice. Finally, the shadows of reality chased away the fire in his mind; the familiar quiet voice of his engineer rose above the shouts and sneers of hostile families who had been watching him kill the firefighters they loved. Slowly, he focused on the soothing voice of his engineer and allowed his tense muscles and sweaty brow to relax.

"It's okay, Cap. It's all over, I promise. You were dreaming. Sshhh… That's it… Just relax for me. It was just a dream, Cap. Just a really bad dream. They got out." Mike watched as the color slowly returned to Hank's tormented features and knew that this was the best chance he was going to have to confirm his suspicions with names. "Chet and Marco got out. They're okay."

A stunned Hank Stanley heard the words he had been longing to hear. He closed his eyes, relaxing into the bed while he waited for his engineer to relinquish his hold completely. He remembered where he was and why he was hospitalized. He remembered that horrible night when he had ordered Carrigan and Jacobs to take a hose in one direction while Marco and Chet were sent in another. Then he realized something else. His engineer knew the secret shame that had been haunting him since the events of that night.

"Ohmygod, Mike… How'd… How'd you know?" He panted, his breathing slowly returning to normal.

"Because I had the same thoughts too, after it happened, but I was too ashamed to admit it to anyone. I just figured it out today… That you've been thinking it, too."

Hank pulled one arm free from Mike's grip, rubbing his eyes. "I'm a… I must be some kind of monster to even… To even think like that."

Mike realized that his captain was indeed completely awake and removed himself from the hospital bed, double checking the IV ensuring it was still secure. He wasn't sure of what to say, so he simply said what was on his heart. "I never told anybody but… I was, um, relieved that night when Marco came out with Jacobs on his shoulders. I knew we hadn't lost both our linemen. Then when he said Chet was alright, but was bringing out Carrigan, I had to go meet him. I almost felt like I had to touch him just to make sure he was alright." Mike looked down at Hank, saw the teary eyes staring into nothingness as the dark haired captain slowly nodded in agreement.

"Just for a split second, I was grateful that our guys got out of there; relieved that the code I's weren't from 51's. But then, I realized how badly injured the guys from 36's really were and I felt awful. How could I do that? How could I feel relief, even for just a moment, when our brothers from 36's were in such bad shape?" Crystal blue, bloodshot eyes peered longingly at his captain. "You felt it too, didn't you?"

Hank merely nodded.

Mike continued. "Every time I look at them on shift, I… I think about how different things could've been after that night. Then I think of how different things are, over at 36's, and I feel guilty all over again."

Hank drew his dark eyebrows together. "What do you feel guilty for? You didn't send them in there, I did."

"I know, Cap. But you didn't cause the backdraft and you didn't kill Carrigan or injure Jacobs. The fire did that." Mike looked down at his knuckles then back up again. "As for the answer to your question, I feel guilty for feeling relief when Marco and Chet walked out of that building under their own power. It really didn't hit me until I was at the funeral. Marco was standing beside me and… And I thought about how close we came to attending his funeral. Then it all started crashing down on me." He looked away for a moment, drying his eyes. "I've been trying to figure out how to help you get over the guilt you were feeling for Carrigan and… Then I realized that it wasn't just the guilt about Carrigan… It was the guilt for the relief you felt that it wasn't Lopez and Kelly."

"It could've just as easily been them, Mike. I don't know why I sent them in the direction I did, but if I hadn't, then… They might both be dead now. Somehow, I feel like I was playing God that night. I decided who lived and who died with just a wave of my hand." Hank exhaled a cleansing breath. "That's why I couldn't attend Carrigan's funeral. Yea, I'd been hospitalized, but… I could've made it, but… I hated to go and feel, um, grateful that it wasn't one of our linemen in that casket," he said, lowering his voice and his face in shame. "You've been dealing with it a hell of a lot better than I have."

"Not really," Mike said, looking down at the floor. "It took a while for me to realize that I wasn't EXCHANGING one life for another. I hadn't CHOSEN to let Carrigan die so that Lopez could live." He waited for Hank to look at him. "I finally realized that it was okay for me to celebrate the joy that Chet and Marco were safe AND mourn the loss and injury of Carrigan and Jacobs."

Hank inhaled a ragged breath, fighting to keep his emotions in check. He allowed Mike's words to sink in, clenching and releasing the blanket that lay twisted on the lower half of the bed, an unintended victim of his nightmare. Moments passed with each man lost in his own thoughts. Both needed to find forgiveness within themselves for feelings which they could not control.

"I'm not a psychiatrist or anything, but let me ask you a question, if you don't mind?" Mike asked, finally breaking the silence.

Hank sighed. "Shoot, I'm not going anywhere."

"Chet and Marco are pretty sharp cats. They'll figure it out eventually. How are they gonna feel when they realize that you quit the department because of what happened – well, didn't happen - with them that night?"

Hank looked at his engineer as if the younger man had taken leave of his senses. "I'm not leaving because of them. They have nothing to do with it. They were just doing their jobs that night."

Mike used his eyes to pierce the soul of his superior. "And that's all you were doing that night, too. Your job. Nothing more, nothing less." He watched Hank shift uncomfortably in the bed. "I'm not asking you NOT to resign. Ultimately, that decision is up to you. But I am begging you not to do it under duress. Now isn't the time to be making these life-altering decisions," Mike pleaded, quoting the words of Dr. Early. "Give yourself some time; let things settle down. Then, when you can think clearly, if you still want to resign, then do it. But don't make this knee-jerk reaction when you aren't really yourself."

Hank contemplated his engineer's words. He thought back to what his younger paramedic had said to him. Then the voice of his precious wife echoed in his ears. Was he, in effect, divorcing his men? Was he letting them down and abandoning them when they needed him? Was he really the only person placing blame squarely on his shoulders for the death of Kyle Carrigan and the near-fatal injury of his partner? He looked around him at the quiet room and realized he felt better than he had felt in several weeks. Whether it was the medication he had been given, the one that had been removed from his system, or the relief in knowing that his darkest secret was finally out, he wasn't sure. One thing he did know for sure, he wasn't willing to walk out on the men who had taken such good care of him recently. He owed them more respect than to walk away now.

"Mike, I-I'll give it some thought. I can't promise you that I'll stay with the department, but… But if you men aren't going to file complaints against me and get me fired, then… Then, I won't make a final decision until after I've met with Dr. Robertson. He's the shrink that Brackett wants me to see."

Mike smiled. "I think we all need to see one of those from time to time, especially in this profession."

"Mike, I… I owe you an apo…"

"Nu-uh, don't start that sappy stuff," Mike admonished. "There'll be time for that later. Right now, just try to get a little more sleep. You have a couple more hours before they start coming in and waking you up."

Hank smiled at his engineer, the feeling almost foreign to his face. "Thank you, Mike. I really mean that. Johnny was right when he said that you men had been a good crew for me. Well, maybe he underestimated it a little. "You men are…," he hesitated, trying to put into words what he was feeling in his heart. You men are the best damn crew of firefighters ever assembled by the Los Angeles County Fire Department."

Mike nodded his head slightly. "Only 'cause we've got the best damn captain."

E!

A/N: Thank you so much for the PM's, reviews and comments you've left for me on this story. I appreciate you all so much and can never thank you enough for helping me improve my writing. We're leaving Hank's story now and moving on to Roy's. Hank's story will continue as will Chet's but we've reached the point where it's time to focus on the DeSoto's. I hope you'll continue reading as we move on to part three of "A House Divided - DeSoto's Dilemma."


	26. chapter 26

A/N: I know I said that chapter 25 was the last one but Roy and Joanne refused to tell me their story until I told a little more of Hank’s story. So, here it is. 

 

Hank’s Haunting - 26

The beeping of the alarm clock woke Roy with a start. He didn’t feel rested and wanted to throw the annoying gadget against the wall. Then he remembered the events of the previous day. Swallowing his pride, he rolled over to his left to face his wife. Joanne's back was to him as she sat on the edge of the bed sliding her feet into her slippers and yawning. He reached out to her, allowing his fingers to gently stroke her back.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

Joanne grimaced at his touch. She knew she needed to apologize, but she also felt that he had been unfair to her. Still, she didn’t want there to be tension between them. “Morning.” She turned around, looking into his tired face and smiling at his bedhead hair. “Roy…, I…”

“No, Jo.” He reached up, running his hand down her arm, needing to physically feel her body. “I was wrong. I’m sorry. You have every right to do whatever you want and… I was being selfish. I hope you have a good day at work,” he said, placing his free hand behind his head as he’d seen Johnny do so many times when he was stuck in Rampart.  
Joanne was shocked. Had he just apologized? She had prepared herself to accept his admonishment and to apologize herself. Yet, her ears had just told her that he felt badly for how he had reacted. 

“Roy, I’m sorry for not telling you. I hate that you found out from Rebecca, but I promise, I didn’t go looking for employment. I just stopped by Bloomers to get some flowers for her and I was offered a job. I couldn’t believe it.” She allowed a smile to cross her face. “I won’t let it interfere with our family life, I promise.”

“It’s okay,” he said, remorsefully. “I’m happy for you.”

She leaned over, kissing his cheek. “I better get going. The kids would sleep all day if I didn’t wake them up on my way to cook breakfast.”

He watched her pull on her robe and step out of their bedroom. He hoped he had truly meant the words he’d just spoken to her. He also hoped that she had spoken with sincerity, as well. Otherwise, their happy family might not stay that way for long.

E!

Rebecca inhaled deeply as she stood in front of the elevator doors waiting for them to open. She stared nervously at her freshly bandaged hands, silently hoping that Mike had been able to bandage the gaping wounds in her husband's soul and that Hank's emotional injuries were healing as well has her own physical ones. The doors opened, bidding her to enter. Stepping inside, she pressed the button and watched her reflection appear as the shiny metal doors closed. She reached up to straighten her wind-blown hair just as the elevator jolted to a stop. This was it. This was the moment she had been praying for all night. She just hoped that when she walked into Hank's hospital room, the man she had loved for over twenty years would be ready to greet her, instead of the shell of the man with whom she had lived for the last few weeks.

E!

Mike pushed his turquoise cafeteria tray along the metal rails, reaching for a bowl of fruit and a cup of oatmeal. He finished off his order with a carton of milk and a cup of coffee then headed for the cashier.

"I'd like this to go, please." Mike didn't want to leave Hank alone for too long. They had made a lot of progress a few hours earlier and the quiet engineer didn’t want to leave him alone with his self-recriminations still hovering nearby.

"Yes, sir," the young woman responded, passing him a bag to carry his disposable containers in before handing him some plastic utensils. 

He paid for his meal, then quickly replaced his wallet into his back pocket, retrieved his bagged items and his coffee cup, then headed back for the elevator. As he stood waiting for the car to reach the lower level, his thoughts turned to Rebecca Stanley. He hoped she had been able to sleep soundly. He could tell she was exhausted, and if the Stanleys were going to repair their marriage, then both needed to be well rested and ready to move forward. 

As the elevator doors opened, he looked down the hallway and saw Rebecca entering Hank’s room with tentative steps. He smiled to himself, stepped back inside the elevator, and returned to the cafeteria. He would give them some time alone while he ate his breakfast.

E!

Rebecca lightly knocked on the door of Hank's hospital room. When she heard no response, her heart leapt into her throat nearly choking her. She pushed open the door slightly just as she heard the toilet flush.

Looking around the room, she felt her hopes crushing around her. The visitor's chair was in the upright position with the blanket neatly folded in the seat. Obviously, Mike had not stayed with Hank after all. Now, she almost dreaded seeing her husband walking out of the bathroom, pushing his IV pole along with him. He would be angry, no doubt. The only problem was that now she had no idea what to try next. The sound of the bathroom door opening startled her and she spun around to face whatever lay ahead.

Hank washed his hands, as best he could, considering one was covered with tape and IV tubing, then opened the bathroom door. He reached back, pulling his IV pole over the threshold then headed for his bed. But the sight before him made him stop abruptly.

"'Becca? I didn't hear you come in," he said with a grin, positioning his IV pole near the head of his bed and climbing back in. 

She helped him cover his bare legs without saying a word, unsure of how to respond to his change in demeanor from the previous night. "H-how do you feel?"

"Hungry," he snickered. "I thought they would've brought breakfast by now." He looked up into her worried eyes and saw a hint of confusion there, too.

"Da-uh, would you like for me to get you something from the cafeteria?" She asked, still puzzled by his behavior.

"No, no... Mike offered to bring me something back, but I didn't want to put him out. He already stayed with me all night and..." he hesitated.

Rebecca felt her eyebrows draw together in confusion. Had he just said that Mike had stayed the night? "Um, Mike stayed last night?" She asked, looking back at the visitor's chair and folded blanket.

"Yes... But, you already knew that, didn't you?" He asked, holding out his hand to her.

Rebecca blinked her eyes rapidly, keeping the tears at bay. She had cried a lifetime of tears just in the last few weeks. She looked again at the perfectly folded blanket. Of course Mike would never leave the blanket in any condition other than the way he had found it. She looked back up at her husband, his hand still reaching out for her. Then swiftly closed the distance between them, reaching her own bandaged hand out, offering her acceptance of his unspoken apology.

Hank traced the tape over the bandaged hand, feeling the tickling in the back of his throat. He had never intended to hurt her, and yet, here was the evidence. Slowly, he brought the injured hand up to his face, gently kissing the gauze-covered palm, closing his eyes as he felt her sit down on the edge of his bed. 

Rebecca allowed him a moment, sensing his need to physically touch her injury. Then, feeling him begin to shiver, she reached out to him. She brushed his bangs away from his forehead, placing her warm moist lips on the bare skin near his dark hair line. She felt him releasing her hand and sliding both of his hands up her arms to her face, maintaining his touch the entire length of her arms, crossing her shoulders, and caressing her face. She felt him gently pulling her face downward, desperate to feel their lips meet. And she complied with his silent request. The kiss was brief and chaste, but held the compassion of forgiveness and the promise of so much more to come.

E!

A/N: Thank you for reading this and I especially thank those who have left reviews and PM’s. I appreciate your patience and understanding of my need to ‘finish’ this – again. Now, maybe Roy and Joanne will share their story with me.


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